


Kids on the slope

by baeconandeggs, BaekMeSomeEggyeol



Series: Kids on the slope [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Sports, Angst with a Happy Ending, Archery, Brief allusions to catholic religion, Bullying, Cancer is a subplot of the story, Coming of Age, Description of anxiety and panic attacks, Discrimination, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit description of sexual intercourses, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mention of the past death of a minor OC character, Recreational Drinking, Rimming, Romance, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Some scenes take place at a hospital, Sort of cum play, Swearing, Tattooed main characters, consumption and description of porn videos, friends with benefits relationship, one main character has a below the knee amputation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 12:19:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 146,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14873633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeconandeggs/pseuds/baeconandeggs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaekMeSomeEggyeol/pseuds/BaekMeSomeEggyeol
Summary: Baekhyun thought he had his whole life perfectly figured out, until a stranger ploughed into him with his bicycle and showed him otherwise, changing it irrevocably.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt #:** BAE173  
>  **Disclaimer: baeconandeggs/the mods is/are not the author/s of this story. Authors will be credited and tagged after reveals.** The celebrities' names/images are merely borrowed and do not represent who the celebrities are in real life. No offense is intended towards them, their families or friends. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this fictional work. No copyright infringement is intended.
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> **Author's Note:** Hello~ Thank you for giving a chance to my story. 
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> To my prompter, I am awfully sorry for literally stealing your simple prompt to turn it onto something so big (may I say monstrous?), I hope you'll still enjoy the story :3
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> To the mods, thank you for your endless patience toward my annoying self ><
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> To my betas, I owe you my sanity. You guys worked to well, thank you for supporting me and bearing with me all along. Thank you so much. 
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> To the readers, there are probably some typos left though, buuuuut, they are cute and kind, I swear they won’t hurt you D:
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> **Little disclaimer, you will probably notice some references to John Green’s novel _”The Faults in our Stars”_ , to the kdrama _Weightlifting fairy Kim Bok Joo_ , and to the novel/movie _Call me by your name_ by André Aciman (if you squint), but outside of this, this story is a product of my imagination and any resemblance to anything else would be purely coincidental.**
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> **Also, my story deals with complicated subjects, and although I have done a lot of researches, I would like to apologize anything is inaccurate or misrepresented.**
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> ****
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> On this note, I hope you will fall in love with this story the way Chanyeol and Baekhyun fall in love here. Let’s listen to the bird sings.

[ Don’t Stop Believing ](https://youtu.be/1k8craCGpgs) \- Journey ×  [ No Surrender ](https://youtu.be/MD3DdskaPhs) \- Bruce Springsteen ×  [ 5th Symphony ](https://youtu.be/_4IRMYuE1hI) \- Beethoven ×  [ Billie Jean (Acoustic guitar cover) ](https://youtu.be/Jx4okVd3K14) ×  [ That's no way to say goodbye ](https://youtu.be/b-bJPmasXKs) \- Leonard Cohen ×  [ Africa ](https://youtu.be/FTQbiNvZqaY) \- Toto ×  [ Send me an Angel ](https://youtu.be/ljTcqBR4aMc) \- Scorpions ×  [ Love of my life ](https://youtu.be/sUJkCXE4sAA) \- Queen ×  [ Living on a prayer ](https://youtu.be/balf-7kM8Ao) \- Bon Jovi

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_First chapter._ **

  
  
  


**_\-----------------_ **

_ Oh, lullaby of Birdland whisper low _ _  
_ _ Always here, when you sigh, _ _  
_ _ Never in my woodland could there be words to reveal in a phrase how i feel. _ _  
_ _ Have you ever heard two turtle doves bill and coo when they love? _ _  
_ _ That's the kind of magic music we get from our lips when we kiss _ _  
_ _ And there's a weepy old willow _ _  
_ _ He really knows how to cry _ _  
_ _ That's how i'd cry in my pillow if you should tell me farewell and goodbye _ _  
_ _ Lullaby of Birdland whisper low _ _  
_ _ Kiss me sweet, then we'll go _ _  
_ _ Flying high in Birdland, high in the sky up above _ _  
_ _ All because we're in love _

 

**_-Lullaby of Birdland, Ella Fitzgerald_ **

**_\-----------------_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Sounds of soft-core porn on TV reverberated against the walls, filling the silent room with the filthy ringing of sex. On the screen, the man was handling the girl like one would treat a pillow, holding her by the hips as if she weighed nothing and pounding into her, making her whole body jerk from the force of his thrusts – eliciting shy moans that mingled with his throaty groans. 

 

A hand on his thigh was tracing random figures along his bare skin. Sighing, he leaned his head back against the wall. The ceiling was plastered with mirrors and although the lighting was dim, he could see their tangled legs amidst the dirty ruffled bed sheets and the blotches of lube on them, along with other kinds of stains – some probably weren’t even theirs. 

 

He saw his partner pressing the bud of his cigarette against the inside of the plastic bottle cut in half, filled with yellowing water that was already hosting other buds. A feeling of laziness and some strange sensation of growing emptiness was settling further in his chest. He licked his lips as he leaned his head against the naked shoulder, letting out a small cough. 

It smelled of sex, perspiration and cigarette smoke covering the naturally stale odor of the room that didn’t have any windows. His leg was hurting but he just closed his eyes as he felt lips grazing over the inside of his left thigh, teeth sometimes biting on the skin teasingly. The hands were drawing up and down the lines of his knees, then calves, one hand stopping before the other – he shivered.

“You have such a disgusting kink.” He breathed out with his voice slowly getting hoarse, his fingers going for the tousled hair and combing it back.

“I love your legs.” The other replied to him casually, lips kissing the underside of his shaft and sending prickles up his spine. “Or what’s left of them, anyway.”

He felt like spitting back an acidic insult, but the words got stuck in his throat as lips circled the tip of his shaft. Soon warmth engulfed him, drawing moans out of his throat and making his fingers twist in the man’s locks.

The rated movie was already finished and had switched to another one – kinkier than the previous film, a girl whose face had obviously been completely redone was wearing a maid costume that left practically nothing to the imagination.

 

He closed his eyes, his heel digging in the small of his sex buddy’s back. The words that he had meant to say that night were left forgotten behind lewd moans and muffled grunts. 

  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  


It was one thing to be able to focus in any condition. It was another to be able to withstand the smell of the rotting ginkgo nuts. The yellow fruits were being crushed under the soles of the unbothered Seoulites who were rushing to get back to work after their lunch breaks. Eyes attached to their smartphones whilst they walked in their typical hunched postures, they never paid attention to their surroundings, only scrunching their noses at the putrid smell of fall and walking faster ahead.

 

Baekhyun was walking too, but with his back straight, earplugs deeply set in his ears and index fingers in his pockets, tapping along the beat to each raindrop falling to the audio he was listening to on his old iPod nano. The old wet socks-like stench that was filling the autumn air didn't bother him at the least and he walked on, wet shoes squeaking in the puddles covering the pavement. The raindrops were lapping at the edge of his coat’s hood, trickling down his nose and cheeks like tears would. The hem of his pants were soaked and clung uncomfortably to his ankles, the cold sinking into his bones and making him shiver.

 

His fingers followed the beat of the echoing thunderclaps and raindrops rippling from his earbuds as he moved his head like how one would appreciate a piece of classical music. Some student on their bike bypassed him, splashing more water on his soaked pants, but he didn't even notice. He was counting the number of echoes produced by the thunder. Eight.

 

He crossed Wausan street, going through the gate into the Wau Park taking the shortcut through the small pathway by the beech trees. It smelled better there, of humid earth and rain. He took his earplugs out, turning off the thunderstorm sounds he was listening to and exhaled deeply.

 

Nothing would usually disturb Baekhyun's focus from his usual routine and yet, today there was a change in plan. An unexpected one.

There was an intruder in his secret pathway today. Baekhyun couldn't see who it was. The lean figure was wearing a bright yellow raincoat and was standing underneath a tree, a guitar case hanging from his back. 

 

With furrowed brows, he observed the stranger. His arms were wrapped against the trunk of a beech tree and although his face couldn't be seen from underneath his canary yellow hood, he seemed to be resting his cheek against the tree. There was a bicycle too, which should have been the first thing to catch his sight, seeing how ridiculously ugly it was. It was of a sparkly purple color with neon green tiger-like stripes. It was an old-looking model with outlandish handles so ridiculously large they looked like twisted gas-pipes, bearing multi-colored streamers stuck to the hot pink leather handles. The seat was of a strange long triangle shape and even had a backrest. It should have been completely illegal for a bicycle this ugly to be commercialized, Baekhyun thought.

 

But the most absurd of it all wasn’t the apparent weird taste the stranger had. It was his actions. It was the fact that the stranger was embracing the tree, like one would hold a lover. His eerily long limbs were wrapped around the beech tree and his body was completely flushed against it. He was hugging a tree.

Baekhyun just frowned harder before he shrugged and put his earbuds back on, walking faster past the weird guy, his strides extending into a brisk jog. He went back to only looking forward, counting the thunderstorms in his ears and tapping his index in his pocket.

Just like this, he didn't notice the woeful tears that the stranger was trying to hide underneath the raindrops, the fog and his bright yellow raincoat, his shoulders shuddering as he hugged the tree’s trunk.

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

When Baekhyun entered the archery room, it was still empty, save for the coach who was in his cubicle hunched over some papers. Dropping his bag in the locker room, Baekhyun took out his towel and his water bottle from it, setting his iPod into the inner pocket of his duffle bag.

“Good afternoon, Coach Choi.” Baekhyun greeted him with a bow.

 

“You’re here early.” Coach Choi noted as he studied him. 

“Class finished earlier so I hurried here.” Baekhyun said simply as he set his towel and his bottle on the bench. He was about to go run some laps before stretching, but Coach Choi had other plans.

“It’s good that you’re here before the others. Come in my office, I need to talk to you about something.”

Baekhyun followed the man inside the cubicle. It was just a small room with glass walls, really, and a long table placed in the center that was used as a desk where piles and piles of documents were stacked. The single plaster wall in there was covered with countless certificates and medals, as well as an anatomy poster taped beside a large photo of Girls’ Generation. The thing was sticking out like a sore thumb with the half-naked girls enveloped in leather. The whole office was dusty and smelled old, even the papers stuck to the wall were turning yellow – just like coach Choi’s skin ; it seemed to be something unavoidable. Anything that would stay for too long in this office would turn yellow. 

 

The pot bellied coach squeezed his way between the files and the wall, seating himself on his desk chair which squeaked dangerously under his weight. Baekhyun stood in front of the desk, both hands behind his back as he waited for the man to speak. Coach Choi stared at him for a while, chin propped on his hands as he stared Baekhyun in the eyes.

“What do you think of Jung Daehyun?” He asked after a while, voice speaking in an expressionless drawl.

Baekhyun was surprised by the question but he didn’t let it show, keeping his composure. “He has been doing fine these past days.” He replied as he worried his lower lip between his teeth, deep in thought. “He had seemed quite troubled before ; his stance was unsteady and he would tend to draw on his bow too much. He’s improved I would say.”

“He’s been doing  _ extremely _ well for the past few weeks, actually.  _ Fils _ has started gaining interest in him after his performance during last week's competition against Andong University.” Coach Choi spoke each syllable with clarity, leaning in towards Baekhyun. His face was stern but his voice rang deep – deep into the knots that were forming inside of Baekhyun’s guts. He remembered this competition. He remembered it very well. Coach Choi hadn’t talked about it so Baekhyun had thought he had let it slide – but of course he hadn’t. There was no way something so big could have been overlooked.

_ Fils _ was a sportswear brand and one of their team’s sponsors. Baekhyun, being the team’s captain and most promising archer with a quite decent face was also one of the brand’s models. It was the offered contract he had signed with them. He had to keep on top and keep his decent image if they didn’t want the sponsor to drop them, but the little incident that occurred during the last competition wasn’t really playing in his favor.

“Daehyun has a strong stance. He has a powerful presence when he draws his bow. It caught their eyes, they said.”

Baekhyun curled his fists, trying to keep his breathing even – calm, though he could feel the needles coming to prickle at his palms.

“I see that your little problem still isn’t gone.” Coach Choi leaned back into his chair, the old thing crying under his weight again. But Baekhyun couldn’t care less to hear it – his mind was going white, the only thought painted into his head was to will himself not to lose it, try to keep his breathing steady. “You should fix it before the Olympics qualifications – June is closer than it seems.”

Baekhyun didn’t reply. He couldn’t. He heard someone knock on the office’s glass door. The coach straightened himself on his seat. “Ah, Jung Daehyun.” He greeted. “Can you wait a sec, I need to finish up with Byun Baekhyun.”

“It’s fine.” Baekhyun cut him off, bowing down in apology for the offense he was about to commit. “I needed to go anyway, I just remembered I have something to do today, I can’t practice.” He mumbled before storming out of the office, shoving Daehyun on the way. He quickly grabbed his bag, forgetting his towel and bottle behind.

He just needed to get far away for some fresh air. Very far away.

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

Wind and rain hit his face as he cycled, but nothing could erase the grin that was splitting Chanyeol’s face. Arnel Pineda’s voice was booming in his ears, singing about hope and strangers while the electric guitar was being strummed fervently in the background, the instrument roaring with passion. Chanyeol was singing along, shouting  _ ‘don’t stop believing’  _ on top of his lungs, not giving a care in the world about the weird looks he was getting. He could imagine himself as Neal Schon, playing the guitar like he was breathing the riff, kneeling on the stage, body glistening in sweat while his fans would roar his name. Chanyeol was dreaming – but when he woke up from his fantasy, it was like he plummeted from his high, falling onto the cold cement ground of the real world.

“Wow Django, calm down buddy!” He called out to his bicycle, feeling his heart pound against his ribs in panic.

The bicycle was speeding up, rushing down the sloping road. The rain was pouring on them and he could feel that his morning bike ride was nearing the possibility of being his last. He gripped on the breaks with full force, his knuckles turning white. But nothing happened. 

 

“Uh-oh.”

His breaks weren’t functioning, it seemed.

“Come on Django, you can’t do this now.” He muttered between gritted teeth, analyzing the situation as fast as he could while his bicycle was hurtling down the park’s pathway. There was no one in sight, and he knew that the road would flatten in a few more meters before there would be a big grass field – he could try slowing down there. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply and prayed on his God.

“Django, you better not fuck this up or else we’ll die and I swear that won't stop me - I’ll go dig your corpse out just so I you could die with me all over again.”

Journey’s song  _ Don’t stop Believing _ was done and his phone switched to the next one – Beethoven’s 5 th Symphony.

_ “Seriously?” _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Autumn wasn’t usually such a rainy season, but it seemed that this year had decided to be particularly gloomy. Underneath his sweatpants, Baekhyun’s skin was shivering, covered with goosebumps. His hands were curled in his pockets but his earbuds just wouldn't stay put in his ear. The left one kept slipping off, so he had to take his hand out to put the bud back in, causing his fingers to get wet and cold – he hated this.  He hated the feeling of his skin being humid. It was a bit of an OCD thing that he had acquired through years of training to be a professional archer – he hated feeling like there was something on his fingers: it would make him uncomfortable. If not taken care off, the uneasiness could grow into something bigger. It was never really pretty.

 

The pitter-patter of the rain was so loud, he tried to turn the volume of his music up. However, his fingers were wet and his iPod didn’t quite appreciate the water, the volume controller went berserk and the sound suddenly hammered against Baekhyun’s eardrums violently, making him yelp and tear his earphones away in a harsh tug.

 

But he didn’t understand what happened. One moment he had been wrestling his tangled wires, crossing the pathway -  and the next second a multicolored flash plowed into him, sending him tumbling on the pavement. 

 

The pain in his hip and leg from the collision was one thing, but the sharp, electric-like wave that coursed up his forearm starting from his wrist and extracted a throaty pained moan from him was the most preoccupying. He tried hard to keep it in, but a long series of colored curses flowed from his lips.

“Holy schnitzel, are you okay?” Baekhyun heard a slightly strained and husky voice nearing him. 

 

There was some rummaging beside him, someone growling and cursing under their breath, but he was too busy analyzing his wrist and hand to care. The fingers were moving, nothing broken, but his wrist hurt. Baekhyun wriggled his digits but he couldn’t move his hand too much for it would send a jolt of pain rushing up his arm. 

 

“Fucking shit.” He spat between his teeth. He felt like murdering someone.

The best target was probably the guy who was trying to haul himself from under his bicycle. Baekhyun almost scoffed when he saw it. On the ground was lying the monstrous stripped violet deformity from last time. A _Raleigh Chopper_ branded bicycle – he could read the brand’s name since he was closer than before – and the guy who was stuck under it was Tree-hugging Guy. _Of fucking_ _course_.

 

Baekhyun let out an exasperated sigh. His wrist was all burning against the pad of his fingers and he had the bad idea of moving it again, which sent another flow of pain. Tree-hugging Guy was kicking his bicycle away, dropping the guitar suitcase he had on his back before he crawled his way to Baekhyun – dirtying his pants and basically his everything in the process. Gentle hands came to Baekhyun’s arm, but he slapped them away.

“Fuck off.”

Tree-hugging Guy gave him a wavering look, his big almond-shaped eyes widening a bit, and his lips turning into a thin line behind which a childish pout was hiding – but Baekhyun had no heart to feel bad. He was _ really _ pissed.

“Let me at least take you to the infirmary.” The guy extended his hands towards Baekhyun again. They were dirty from the mud, Baekhyun winced from it in disgust and crawled away.

“Just – get away from me. That’s how you will help me.” He sighed in frustration as he got up, brushing his hands on his sweatpants. He was now all dirty and wet. Not that it mattered so much, he had clothes to change into, but he was cold and his wrist really, really hurt.

He didn’t have it in him to feel bad about Tree-Hugging Guy as he marched away, too preoccupied by the state of his wrist. The skin on the side of his hand was a bit scratched too, bleeding. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chanyeol watched the archer’s furthering back, a pout on his lips. Still on the ground, he could feel his pants suck up the muddy rain, yet he didn’t stand up. His guitar case was lying beside him, gathering the rain droplets. Django, his bicycle, was just a meter away, the streamers all tangled, hanging in a pitiful way, rain running down them making it seem as if the bicycle was crying.

 

“Ah, I’m so sorry Lady… ” He apologized patting the guitar case, brushing some of the rain away with his sleeve, a worried pout smearing his lips. 

 

The pad of his thumb went to the stickers on it, most of them old and bleached, the majority being rock bands stickers, some cute animals. He tried to flatten his favorite one which was slowly wrinkling from the rain, the corners dog-eared. It was an LGBTIQ stylized sticker with a white heart and a sun peaking above it and  _ Beyond the rainbow Foundation  _ scribbled on it. He glanced at Django too and felt a pinch to his heart. His other hand unconsciously went to his right leg, which he rubbed absentmindedly. 

 

“Ugh, that hurt.” Chanyeol sighed, looking back to the way Baekhyun had taken. The archer was out of sight at this point. Groaning, he tried to stand up, limping a bit, his balance not quite right, and Django was heavy, the bicycle almost dragging him along as he tried to lift it back up. On the ground, his phone was playing Bruce Springsteen’s  _ No Surrender _ and it had Chanyeol smile a bit. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Baekhyun was the archery’s team captain and it was no secret. His name was known by many students at Hongik University. He was a promising athlete who had won a great deal of national and international competitions. He was a model for various sports brands and he was also the top student in his faculty. However, he was also known for being quite unapproachable, but that didn’ t stain his reputation. Saying he had fans would be an understatement – he actually had quite a good fanbase, and Chanyeol was definitely a part of it. He had had eyes for Byun Baekhyun for a good while now, so saying he had a crush was completely allowed. Yet, he had never talked to him, preferring watching from the sidelines. 

 

Chanyeol on his part was a proud defender of the LGBTIQ rights and was quite known for it on campus, among other things. The same couldn’t be said for Baekhyun though, so Chanyeol had preferred to stay discreet. Plowing into him with Django certainly wasn’t part of the manners Chanyeol had contemplated to approach his crush. But now things were done and he had to act on it. 

 

He was pushing his bicycle, seeing the archery practice room come at sight. Leaning Django against the wall, he entered the small gymnasium. The sound of arrows hitting targets was the first thing that filled his senses, before the smell of sweat and dust came to his nostrils. It was oddly quiet apart from that. None of the team members were speaking, all lined up side to side and drawing their bows in an astounding rhythm. They hadn’t even noticed that Chanyeol had came in – or if they had, they hadn’t reacted to it. There were some people sitting in the grandstand – most of them girls, probably fans.

 

Chanyeol thoroughly swept his shoes on the little doormat. It was old and thinned out from having been used for so long, to the point that it barely served its purpose anymore, and the black color had washed out to a more grayish shade. A quick look around was enough to tell him that Byun Baekhyun wasn’t there though, but he still took his chances . As discreetly as possible, he tried to walk to the coach’s office. His humid soles were squeaking against the parquet floor. He glanced at the archers but none of them paid attention to him so he just decided on walking normally, it would save him the trouble. His leg was still throbbing anyway and to be honest his only desire at this point was to collapse somewhere and detach it. 

 

“Coach Choi.” He greeted with a bow as he walked into the office after knocking. 

 

The graying man looked at him, nodding his head back. “What’s bringing you here, kid?” He set his pen on the desk, closing the file he had been working on.

 

“I was looking for Byun Baekhyun – I thought he would be here.” Chanyeol muttered, looking around the office. It was his first time here. The Girls’ Generation poster caught his eyes, he gave it an appreciative nod which seemed to pull a little smile out of the coach.

 

“He left early, said he couldn’t practice today.” The man replied with a shrug of his shoulder, but it was perceptible in the way his lips thinned that he was slightly annoyed by it. 

 

Chanyeol guessed that this was unusual, and he remembered how Baekhyun had snapped at him. This wasn’t Baekhyun-like at all. Neither was him skipping practice. From all the times Chanyeol had observed him from the grandstand, it was obvious that Baekhyun was diligent in his training routine – always first here and always the last to leave. Something wasn’t right. Asking would probably be stepping over the line, though.

 

“Okay, sorry for taking up your time.” He bowed his head as both a thank you and an apology, but was stopped before he could leave the office.

“Wait.” The coach called out to him. “Baekhyun forgot these,” he said pointing at a towel and a water bottle which were placed on the stool beside Chanyeol, “you might want to give it back to him when you find him.”

Chanyeol grabbed them both, dusting them off just out of habit before hugging them to his chest. He didn't really have a place for it in his guitar suitcase so he would have to carry them until he had somewhere to put them away. 

He was about to leave when he noticed flyers on the coach’s desk – it was for chicken restaurants. Some were stricken through, others had red circles with calculations scribbled on the side. Chanyeol knew it wasn’t his place to ask, but he just couldn’t tame his curiosity.

“Are you looking for a nice chicken place?” He asked, pointing his chin toward the flyers.

The coach was surprised by his question, his hand automatically going to cover the flyers under another stack of files. “Ah yes, I’m looking for a new place where I can treat the kids. The one where we used to go closed down.”

Chanyeol nodded at the info, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

The sun was setting earlier and earlier these days, and the breeze was chilly at this hour. Baekhyun’s fingers were a bit numb from the cold and he could feel his taut skin against the string of his bow, yet he couldn’t feel the tip of his fingers. Pain was flowing from his wrist as he drew on his bow, sending a spasm coursing up his fingers and making him release his arrow abruptly. The thing went to bury itself in the grass at the foot of the tree he was aiming at. A pained groan ripped through his throat as he grabbed his aching wrist. He could feel it pulsate under the pad of his fingers, and despite the cold patch he had applied in hopes of lessening the heat, it was still burning hot. 

 

He wriggled his fingers, extending them and curling them as his thumb massaged the place above his median nerve. After a few minutes, he sighed deeply, a small cloud of mist escaping from his lips, and he went to fetch his arrows. As he did so, something of a bright yellow shade caught his attention on his right.

 

It was Tree-hugging Guy. And this time again, he was hugging the same beech tree. Baekhyun could see his guitar suitcase – his nose scrunched up when he got a glimpse of the gay flag on it. The bicycle was resting beside him, streamers floating with the wind.

 

Baekhyun got into position, setting his feet at a shoulder width distance, relaxed and straightened his back. Placing the arrow, he raised his bow arm straight in front of him, setting it toward his target. Then his tab hand went to the string, and he pulled at it, his drawing motion smooth like the strokes of a painter on his canvas, and the string came to press against the right side of his lips. He blinked.

 

If he released the string there, he would get the Tree-hugging Guy.

 

He kept this position for a while, staring at the man’s back – at the little gay flag on his guitar case.

He didn’t shoot. Taking out his arrow, he put it back in his case, along with the bow. His wrist was still throbbing. The moon could be seen in the sky tonight. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When he got home, Ms. Bang greeted him with a bow, brushing her palms on her apron. Baekhyun greeted the maid back, kicking his shoes off and pushing them in the corner, behind the entrance door.

“Has the young master eaten? There is chicken broth, I can heat it up for him.” The aging lady asked with a bit of apprehension in her voice. 

 

Baekhyun noticed that his mother was sitting in the open-plan kitchen by the counter, fingers drumming on her laptop. She hadn’t looked up to greet him. Her hair was still tied in the same tight bun from morning, no stray strands of hair sprouting from it, and on her metallic glasses her screen was being reflected. Baekhyun shook his head at Ms. Bang. He hung his coat onto the rack before taking back his bow case.

“I visited the practice room to bring you home, but you weren’t there.” His mother’s voice was in appearance blasé, her eyes not even glancing up at her son, yet he could clearly feel the underlying sour tone of it.

“I was practicing in the park.” He replied passively, licking his lips – they were dry, he was a bit thirsty. His phone vibrated in his pocket but he ignored it.

“You didn’t reply to my phone calls.” She pointed out, and the tension in the room dropped to chilly temperatures, but it was something he was used to.

“I was too focused on my practice.” He said, and the defiance could be felt. 

 

His mother finally looked up, her lips thinning and her eyes piercing. “That’s good. Means you’re definitely not chickening out and taking first place next week.” It was said as a statement, but Baekhyun knew it was a warning. His hand gripped tighter on his case’s handle and he felt the cold claws grip at his chest, his guts twisting slightly. He wasn’t hungry at all anymore; feeling the pressure on his chest was making him feel nauseous.

 

Without a word, he went to his room, slamming the door behind him. As he did so, Mongryeong, who had been sleeping, woke up and barked as he waddled toward him, teeth coming to nip playfully at the hem of his pants, but he jerked his foot away from the grasp. His corgi sat down, looking at him with big eyes. His phone vibrated again and this time he took it out, looking at the notifications. There were six missed calls from his mother, two from Jongdae. The last one was a text from his friend.

 

**From Jongdae:**

_ u fine? u skipped practice… _

Baekhyun threw his phone on his bed before he collapsed on top of it too, his fingers curling around the hem of his pillow, pulling at it as he sought for air. The feeling in his chest was getting stronger, the claws digging into his lungs, ripping through the flesh, making it so hard for him to breathe. Curling himself into a ball, his knee went to kick his bow case. Flashes of back there, in the park, with his arrow set on Tree-hugging Guy came back to his mind. His hand went to his aching wrist, caressing it unconsciously. The skin was soft, but he couldn’t feel it much because of the callouses on the tip of his fingers.

 

What would have happened if he had released the string? 

 

He didn’t have much time to ponder over it though as Mongryeong went to curl himself against his stomach, his snout poking in his chin and tongue coming to lap at his cheek, making sure that his human friend was alright in his own doggy way.

 

“I’m fine pal.” Baekhyun tried to reassure him, scratching his furry tummy. He hugged his corgi close, rubbing his nose against the little perked ear.

 

He was fine. He had to be fine. 

  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  


“You didn't reply to me yesterday.” Jongdae nudged Baekhyun on the ribs, lips wearing a pout. “Are we really breaking up?” His voice was high-pitched as he asked, faking some tears here and there. It had Baekhyun roll his eyes.

 

“Sorry, my heart is beating for someone else.” He retorted offhandedly as he rummaged through his bag. He was sure that he had packed a towel and a water bottle yesterday, yet it wasn't there anymore. 

 

He heard Jongdae gasp somewhere beside him, but he didn't pay attention to his friend’s drama queen-esque quirks. Instead he quickly changed into his sweatpants and grabbed his bag and bow case, exiting the changing room. An arm looped itself around his shoulders, but as he was looking straight ahead, he missed Jongdae’s worried glance.  

 

“You’re doing great.” 

 

Baekhyun’s attention was pulled by the booming voice of his coach. Looking to his left, he noticed that the man was standing behind Daehyun who had shot three arrows. All of them on the yellow circle. 

 

“He’s been licking coach Choi’s ass so much lately.” He heard Jongdae click his tongue in distaste after bad mouthing their junior. Baekhyun ignored him, gulping back a sigh that was threatening to come out. Instead, he straightened his shoulders and went to position himself in front of a free target. Jongdae did just the same, but with a smile on his lips. He always seemed so carefree – Baekhyun wondered how he did it. 

 

Practice days such as this were a routine. They would spend the day in front of their target, 70 meters away from it and shooting until dusk. The point was to focus on improving technical aspects such as release or the tab hand position. It was always a grueling process, both for the body and the mind. Keeping your focus for so long was hard, and the repetitive movement was straining on the body. But this was the way for the movement to be impregnated into your body – and it was what made the South Koreans so good at archery, as coach Choi liked to say. Indeed, their country had been leading in the sport, their archers having won 39 Olympic medals, 23 of which were gold, and they had won every women’s event since women’s archery had joined the Olympics in 1988. And the Olympics was exactly what Baekhyun's goal was. So such a training was a trifle for him. If he couldn’t even make this without sweating then there was no way he would ever reach his goal. 

 

“Don’t forget that the competition against Kyunghee University is coming closer. You can’t get lazy now. I want to hear the sound of your arrows hitting the bull’s eye faster, faster, faster!” Coach Choi was clapping his hands in a rhythmic way, and all the archers tried to get in sync with it, shooting each time he would clap. Baekhyun could feel the coldness of his bow string pressed against the corner of his lips repetitively and he tried to focus on that instead on how his wrist was throbbing and how his fingers were stiff and trembling when he would draw on the string.

 

“The bull’s eye, Byun Baekhyun! I didn’t ask you to aim for the toilets! What kind of shooting is this!”

 

And Baekhyun shot, shot, shot. There was a warmth travelling in his arm muscles. His hand was still unsteady and the pain in his wrist was growing, but he gritted his teeth and shot, shot.

 

“That’s good Jung Daehyun, keep it up. Come on guys. Ten points! Ten points! Shout it with me! Ten points!”

 

The whole group joined as they shot their arrows, running to the target to pull them out every time they ran out of arrows. 

 

“Byun Baekhyun, what kind of stance is this? Are you sweeping the floor?!”

 

He exhaled, trying to vent his anger out on his target. Releasing his last arrow, he watched it plough into the yellow circle, right at the center.

 

“Finally! That’s what I want to see!”

 

Baekhyun curled his hand into a fist, nails digging in his palm. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  1. Baekhyun had counted each of them. He was shooting his 305th arrow when the archery room’s door slid open and a voice that he recognized shout through it.



 

“Fried chicken delivery!”

 

Most of the bows moved down and the sound of arrows hitting the target stopped. From the corner of his eyes, Baekhyun saw him. It was Tree-hugging Guy again. He was carrying numerous plastic bags, waddling his way toward coach Choi. He was hard to miss, being tall like a pole and once again wearing his ugly long bright yellow raincoat. He heard Jongdae calling for him, telling him to come along, but Baekhyun just shrugged, ignoring his request. Jongdae pouted a bit, but the call of food was strong enough to wash away his disappointment instantly. 

 

“Did someone order chicken?” The coach asked to the group, but all shouted a united ‘no’ in reply. 

 

“It’s a present from a secret someone.” Baekhyun heard Tree-hugging Guy explain in a blissful voice that only made him sound dumb in his honest opinion. Sighing, he drew his bow, the string coming to press against the corner of his lips. 

 

The hubbub of the archers leaving their bows and happily trudging toward the benches where the food was being distributed, along with the sound of plastic bags rustling with boxes of fried chicken being opened, soon became only a faint background noise as Baekhyun released his arrow and watched it hit 10 points again. Beside him, he saw that Dakhyun had stayed back too. It only made him more adamant on staying there and continue practising. The pain in his wrist had turned dull at this point – he could feel himself getting used to it. His fingers were still a bit shaky when he would let the bowstring go, but it was okay. His shots were getting better. That was all that mattered. 

 

“You’re not coming to eat?” A voice perked up on his right side, and he saw a canary yellow figure that was standing beside him. “Is your wrist okay? Are you sure it’s okay for you to train like this?” 

 

Baekhyun didn’t reply. Instead, he drew his bow, closing one eye as the string came against his lips again. 

 

For a while, he could feel a gaze on him, but that soon disappeared too. He noticed that Tree-hugging Guy wasn’t by his side anymore when he came back with his arrows after pulling them from the target. He sighed in exaggerated relief.

 

The practice room now smelled of the particular greasy stench of fried chicken. he scrunched his nose. He was about to get back in position when he noticed something. There, on the floor, was his towel and water bottle which he had lost the previous day. Crouching down to use them, he noticed that the towel smelled nice as he used it to dab his sweaty forehead - it smelled of washing powder. And beside his water bottle were two small boxes. Soothing cream for joints and cool patches for sprains. 

 

Biting down on his lower lip, he looked around him. But Tree-hugging Guy wasn’t there anymore. Outside, the sky was already dark. He took his bow back and got into position again, tuning his focus back to his target. 

 

He didn’t have time to waste with such trivial things.

  
  
  
  
  


*******

  
  
  
  
  


Lips were wandering on his skin, drawing down the line of his neck and meeting the birth of his shoulder. They had decided to turn off the TV this time. Also there were no mirrors on the ceiling, it was a different love hotel. This one had panther prints everywhere, from the bed sheets to the toilet paper. Even on the bathrobes, but he had preferred not to use them - just in case.

 

Hands travelled down his thigh, knee, and then he couldn’t feel them anymore. There was some pressure around his left calf, and then the sound of a puff of air being let out. 

 

“There you go again.” It could be felt in his tone, that Chanyeol was rolling his eyes in kind mockery. 

 

Sehun pulled at the prosthesis, freeing Chanyeol’s stump, his palm then sliding back up his knee.

 

“I told you, I like it.” He kissed the underside of Chanyeol’s jaw. The latter leaned back into the cushions, his fingers clawing at his friend’s shoulders as he pulled him on top of himself. Sehun brushed his bangs away and saw Chanyeol’s eyes – how dull they were. “You’re…” He started, but cut himself off.

 

Chanyeol went to wrap his arms around Sehun’s shoulder, pulling the man in and nuzzling his face in the crook of his neck. His legs – or what was left of them, as Sehun tended to say jokingly – wrapped themselves around his friends lithe waist, and he inhaled deeply. Fingers threaded through his hair gently and he closed his eyes.

 

He couldn’t even remember when it had started, nor how. It had just been this way for a while – him and Sehun meeting up in random love hotels, having sex most of the time, sometimes just giving a hand to the other, and occasionally just talking, hugging, doing nothing much but being there for the other one when needed. There were no feelings involved, just friendship with a bit of fun here and there – it had been made clear since the start. Yet Chanyeol often found himself overwhelmed by it, but he kept coming in. Needing it. 

 

They did it slow that night, from behind, fingers entwined as they moved at a pleasurable pace, occasionally exchanging words, cheek pressed against the pillow and lips on the nape of the neck. Chanyeol came, but his thoughts were elsewhere. 

 

Once again, he couldn’t manage to put an end to it – to speak up. He was scared. Scared of letting go. Scared of being alone. Lonely. Unloved. 

  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  


The sun was present in the sky that day. A crisp breeze was biting at Baekhyun’s skin, but he barely paid attention to it. With his fingers curled around the strap of his bow case, he took big strides in the middle of the campus, going down the same slope he took everyday from class to the archery room. The cherry blossom trees were barren of their flowers, for winter was coming closer and the ginko trees were losing their golden hue, all their berries now rotting on the ground. But the beech trees still stood tall and proud, seemingly unbothered by the weather. 

 

The tightness in Baekhyun’s chest was just like those beech trees, standing still, always there, as if it couldn’t be rooted out. It had been there for so long, Baekhyun couldn’t even remember since when it had started. It was just a weight making his chest feel heavy with emptiness, if that made sense. Just as if each of his heartbeat resonated so much louder inside of his ribcage, and it hurt, like a punch against his lungs every time. It made it so hard to breathe. Something as simple as walking down the slope would have him out of breath. 

 

Students were walking down the same slope as him which by-passed the Humanities and Social Sciences Hall. They were all talking, sounding joyous. Baekhyun muted them out. His fingers went to his wrist. He curled his hand into a fist, rotating it to stretch it a bit and feel how his muscles were doing, but he could barely move it without his eyes squinting. 

 

Yesterday’s practice had put a toll on his joints. He had felt it throb during the whole night, and when dawn broke he could barely move his hand. His wrist had become a bit swollen. Conceding that being too stubborn would lead him nowhere, he had gone to fetch the soothing cream that Tree-hugging Guy had offered him. The ointment had felt cool against his burning flesh, and he thanked whoever had invented this. 

 

His fingers were now caressing the cooling patch, his thumbnail scratching against the little folds that had appeared on the material since he hadn’t exactly applied it neatly in his haste. He had worn it for the whole day so he decided to peel it off - he had practice anyway so he couldn’t show up with it.

 

Baekhyun spotted a bin down the slope, under a tree. He proceeded to peel the patch off as he walked to it, stepping on the grass and sighing as the beech trees shade cast over him, making him shiver a bit. Suddenly, the melodic sounds of a guitar playing flowed to his ears. The strumming was swift and mellow, pleasant and fitting in the breeze. The source of such a lulling tune pulled on his curiosity, and he peered from behind the tree, trying to find it. 

 

He was surprised to see Tree-hugging Guy sitting on a small brick wall, guitar on his lap and body hunched over it with a sort of comfort that belonged to passionate guitarists only. Baekhyun leaned against the beech tree, cheek pressed against the trunk, feeling its bark scratch his skin a bit but he didn’t mind – he couldn’t, actually. There was just something in the way that Tree-hugging Guy played that pulled him in, as if draining his soul in a bewitching manner, making him lose track of time. The melody sounded familiar, yet he couldn’t put his finger on it. It sounded mellow, yet there was a tinge of nostalgia to it, something sounding disturbingly akin to a goodbye. 

 

Baekhyun didn’t want it to ever end. 

 

For the first time, he noticed that Tree-hugging guy had long dark hair which was tied back in a sort of messy bun, some wavy strands escaping from it here and there, moved by the wind and cascading around his face. It made Baekhyun realize that he had actually never taken a proper look at the boy, aside from his back view that day, when he had first seen him hugging the beech tree. Today too, he was wearing his oversized bright yellow raincoat, and his bicycle was there, leaned against the wall, multicolored shiny streamers flowing along with the wind. It was still as ugly as ever – Baekhyun wouldn’t go back on this statement. 

 

The song then changed to something a bit more cheerful – he soon recognized it as an acoustic cover of Michael Jackson’s  _ Billie Jean. _ Baekhyun found himself nodding along to the rhythm as his gaze travelled on Chanyeol’s features. He now realized that the man had quite a decent face – a straight long nose that was crowned by two large almond-shaped eyes of a dark brown color, like a cup of coffee, warm as they looked at the guitar. His brows were thin and well shaped, partially hidden by some dark locks of hair which had escaped from the bun. His jawline was sharp, but the roundness in his cheeks and the pinkness of his lips gave him a soft look – Baekhyun noted that while the upper lip was thin, the lower one was fuller, looking plush and endearing in the way one corner pulled into a fond smirk as he played his music. 

 

The melody abruptly stopped though when the group of people who had gathered around Tree-hugging Guy – about seven people or so – gave him coins in the small plastic cup that he had placed beside him, a small smiling heart drawn on it with a red marker. Baekhyun couldn’t help worry his lower lip between his teeth, wondering just why he was being given change – was he begging? 

 

He didn’t ponder on it though. It wasn’t his business. Nor did he even care in the first place. Crumpling his used patch in his hand, he dumped it in the bin before trudging to the archery room, rubbing at his cheek to brush off the dirt that he had gotten from the tree. 

 

Daehyun was already there this time. He gritted his teeth, taking out his bow and ignoring the striking pain in his wrist. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Come on, drop this bow will you?” Jongdae appeared beside Baekhyun, all sweaty and faking annoyance, but his lips were grinning as always. 

 

The archer drew on his string one last time – it was his last arrow left after all. Releasing the string, it hit the yellow circle, right where all the other arrows were too. Jongdae let out an impressed whistle before looking past Baekhyun’s shoulder.

 

“Seems like someone isn’t doing well today.” He said, with an intended loudness. Daehyun, who was obviously the target of this barb didn’t react, but Baekhyun noticed his jaw clenching. He released his string, but the arrow only got 6 points. “So much for progressing.” Jongdae ticked his tongue. Daehyun ignored them but the anger and frustration were clearly present on his features and his stance was tense – he was drawing on his string with too much force and his elbow was too high.

 

“Let’s go.” Baekhyun discreetly smirked toward Jongdae before going to fetch back his arrows. “Are we going to run?” He asked as he joined his friend back in the changing room after having stuffed his arrows and bow back in his case. He took his towel and clean clothes out of his bag, peeling his sweaty shirt off without much reverence. His wrist was a bit stiff but it was still hot from all the effort – he would have to put some ointment on as soon as Jongdae wouldn’t be looking. 

 

“Nah.” Jongdae pinched his nose as he picked his used t-shirt up from the bench. “You’ve worked well, and I owe you food, so it’s on me tonight.” He said as he folded it and buried it in his bag. 

 

“Admit it, you just want to go see that cute waitress you told me about.” Baekhyun rolled his eyes as he took his towel and walked to the shower stalls in his naked glory. 

 

Neither of them really minded the nudity – having participated in so many competitions together since they knew how to hold a bow, they had grown accustomed to having to change in front of hundreds of strangers without batting an eyelash, so this was clearly a habit. 

 

Jongdae didn’t reply, but instead Baekhyun felt a slap on his asscheek which had him burst out laughing.

 

“You shit.” He elbowed Jongdae in the ribs as he waited for the water coming out of the shower head to heat up. 

 

“She's so fucking sexy, Hyun.” Jongdae whined. “I think I really am in love.” He pouted. Baekhyun gave him a dead look. 

 

“Just as you said you love me.” He rolled his eyes.

 

“That’s different.” Jongdae made that little hand gesture, flapping his hand as if pushing the matter aside. “We’re bros.” He pursed his lips, making smooching sounds as he approached Baekhyun under the shower. The latter’s eyes widened when he saw Jongdae approach with the face of a devil, arms spread open. He didn’t have the time to escape it though - Jongdae threw himself at him, hugging him in a very naked way. 

 

“Fucking  _ ew _ , Dae!” Baekhyun tried to push him away but he almost slipped on the wet tiles. 

 

Suddenly, the sound of a disapproving click of the tongue caught both of their attention and as they looked up they noticed that Daehyun was there too, holding his bottle of shampoo and looking at them with a disgusted face. He just shook his head, about to walk to the farthest shower head, but Jongdae was faster. Baekhyun saw him grab his towel and soak it with water, before there was the loud sound of a humid slap and Daehyun barked in pain, his asscheek all red from the whisk Jongdae had just pulled with his wet towel. 

 

“ _ Fucking faggot _ .” 

 

Baekhyun pulled Jongdae to his side before Daehyun’s bottle of shampoo managed to get him in the head. The two friends left the shower room, but not before Jongdae showed a majestic middle finger to Daehyun. 

 

“I  _ really  _ can’t stand him.” Jongdae was fuming, and Baekhyun felt a bit bad about it, honestly. 

 

Jongdae and Daehyun had been good friends, before the ‘little incident’ had happened. He, on the other side, had never really appreciated the guy – not that he appreciated many people anyway. Baekhyun knew that he was quite popular, being the captain of the archery team while modeling for different sport brands that the team used as sponsors, there were quite a few girls after him, and some guys too according to Jongdae. But he never gave himself the time to think about such things. Archery had been, as far as he could remember, the gravitational point of his focus. 

 

As soon as they were done putting on their clothes, they heard a very unmanly squeak come from the shower room, followed by the tremendous sound of something crashing.

 

“I might have  _ accidentally  _ spilled some shampoo on the floor before leaving.” Jongdae said with a cheeky grin. 

 

And Baekhyun, for the first time in a while, laughed wholeheartedly. With his head thrown back and his arms clenching around his aching stomach, he laughed, laughed, and laughed to tears, feeling the weight on his chest lighten a bit – letting him breathe a bit better. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It didn't last long though as Baekhyun hugged his bow case to his chest while he tried not to lose his balance. An  _ ajhumma _ kept elbowing him in the ribs, rumbling about how uneducated today’s youth was, as if doing this would make the bus less cramped. It was overheated inside and there were just too many people at this hour – behind him a mother was trying to calm the crying baby on her lap while her other child was messily eating his triangle  _ kimbap _ , the smell of the mayonnaise and fish so strong it made Baekhyun nauseous. And the pressure on his chest was back; it was just too heavy he felt like he was being repetitively punched in the diaphragm. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on his breathing, but his head was spinning and he could feel his hands turning clammy. 

 

Jongdae probably noticed it because the next thing he knew, there was a hand leading him out of the bus and the cold air hitting his face was making him feel alive again. He crouched down, burying his face in his palms, relishing in how cold they felt against his skin. Slowly his lungs started functioning properly again and he was feeling less dizzy. 

 

“Sorry.” He sighed as he leaned his head back, shivering slightly as he basked in the embrace of a furtive breeze. 

 

“Meh, it’s fine.” Jongdae shrugged, picking up Baekhyun’s bow case from the ground. “It was the next stop anyway. We can walk from here.”

 

They did so in silence. The night sky was expanding over their heads like a dull veil – no stars could be seen in the sky, the pollution reaching a peak at this period of the year. Actually, neither of them had ever seen a star in the sky. On any season, the pollution would always steal them away from their eyes, and it had been so for many years. 

 

Baekhyun recalled hearing his beloved grandfather telling him about the skies and the stars – but also the fireflies. He would tell him how during his young days, the sky was dotted in light, so many lights, of different sizes and colors and he always thought it was like the sky was bleeding a bit, but it didn't want the humans to worry about it. Therefore, the sky had turned his blood into golden hues so that the humans could look at them and smile. But it all began to disappear around the 70’s, when the humans stopped looking for the stars and caring about the sky. The sky turned sad so the fireflies moved away, and his stars hid behind the thick cloud of pollution that never ceased to grow. 

 

So street lamps served as their stars and Baekhyun stared at the shadows sprawled on the pavement, making a game in his head of alternating between stepping on light then shadow. It was a habit he had gotten. 

 

At some point, his life had turned into a continuous extended archery practice. Archery was mainly about focus. Then came technique, and lastly strength and endurance. There were thousands of ways to practice your focus. This was just one of them. Focusing on simple little things and coordinating his movements to them. Just like how he would listen to thunderstorms on his iPod and tap his finger to the rhythm of each clap of thunder. He would have done it there as well, if not for his friend's presence. 

 

From the crowded main street, they walked into a smaller one with no pavement to walk on. There was a  _ hanok _ -style building which stood out like a sore thumb in this cramped alley where cafes and restaurants all had their menus stuck up to their walls or on little folded boards placed near the entrance. All the buildings looked mismatched next to each other – even one building looked like a weird pièce-montée cake where each tier could have belonged to a whole different sort of cake – but this was something quite proper to these new neighborhoods that had burgeoned near universities, trying to gather the college students at night with their bright colors and lights, like honey for the bees. Jongdae had hooked his arm to Baekhyun’s as he pulled him away from a truck Baekhyun almost walked into. 

 

“It’s here.” His friend said, nodding toward a specific building.

 

It was a small brick three-story building painted in white and there was a small wooden steep-looking staircase on the side of it that crawled in a crooked way against the facade, leading to the second floor. Jongdae engaged himself on it, and Baekhyun followed, holding himself tightly onto the railing. The exterior looked shabby, and his eyebrows twitched when he saw the name of the restaurant. 

 

_ Big Cock Restaurant.  _

 

He wasn't an ace in English but such terms were common knowledge among people his age. He side-glanced Jongdae, wondering if this whole setup wasn't just a trap to get him into a shady place, but the other just gave him a big smile and a thumbs up before he pushed the front door open and its bell jingled. 

 

While the exterior was shabby, it hinted to nothing of how the inside was. As soon as he had stepped in, a comfortable warmth had enveloped his body. The lighting was pleasantly dim, mismatched lamps hanging from the bare ceiling in a tasteful retro way. The walls were painted in a soft yellow color and there was a huge brick wall left bare with ivy crawling up it and branched along it in artsy curls, dodging the shelves where diverse bowls were sitting, all different faces with different emotions, oddly resembling the dwarfs from  _ Snow White _ . The whole room was buzzing with a chill and serene atmosphere, and from the speakers perched on the walls came the soft lull of Leonard Cohen’s  _ That's no way to say goodbye _ .

 

“Jongdae! Welcome!” A tiny middle-aged lady walked to them, her arms spread before they unfurled said one into a hug. “I see you brought a friend.” She smiled gently as she peered from behind Jongdae. Baekhyun politely greeted her, bowing. It occurred to him that when she smiled, she looked just like someone familiar, with her big eyes and beautiful beaming expression. She had short curly hair, some white locks making a beautiful contrast in her otherwise dark hair. She was of a petite stature, but her presence was so warm that her big heart was making her seem overbearing. Baekhyun felt out of place when she hugged him too, but it actually felt nice. 

 

“What a handsome boy.” She cooed as she flattened his hair, cupping his cheek like a mother would do.  “What’s your name?”

 

He managed to mumble a small  _ ‘Byun Baekhyun’ _ but he was barely heard because of the ruckus his friend was causing beside him. 

 

“I thought you said I am the most handsome boy you ever saw, Ms. Lee.” Jongdae whined in the back. She chuckled at that. 

 

“Both of you are very handsome, there.” She patted them on the back. “Seulgi honey.” She called. 

 

A petite girl with beautiful sparkling eyes came to them, holding two menus to her chest as she greeted them, her gummy smile making her cute nose scrunch a bit. She walked them to one of the small booths available, placing the menus in front of them once they were seated. 

 

“Call me when you are ready to order.” She said pointing at the button that was on the side of the table next to the napkin dispenser.

 

“I wish I had this same button at home to call her in my room.” Jongdae sighed wistfully, gaze clearly trailed somewhere it shouldn't. Baekhyun kicked him under the table, taking the menu to inspect it. 

 

“Didn't you see the way she smiled at me?!” Jongdae slammed his hands on the table, leaning in with all the seriousness of the world in his eyes. “I mean, who would resist my charms? I know, no one.”

 

“You haven't even talked to her once.” Baekhyun said in a deadpan as his finger went down the list, folds appearing on the bridge of his nose as he considered the choice of dishes. Obviously they all had chicken as the main ingredient. 

 

“I did!” Jongdae’s voice sounded like a pterodactyl screech.

 

“Aside from ordering food.” He smiled deviously as he looked up from his menu, and Jongdae just pouted, crossing his arms over his chest and burying himself lower into the cushions on his booth. 

 

“That's why I asked you to come here. “ Jongdae sounded like a whiny baby as he said it. “How could I woo her when I never see her? ”

 

Baekhyun shrugged. Jongdae had a point. 

 

“Just ask her if she wants to get a drink with you sometime, or something like that.”

 

Jongdae looked at him with no particular emotion. “Love sounds so easy when you talk about it.”

 

Baekhyun didn’t reply to this. Jongdae knew as much as him that Baekhyun had no knowledge whatsoever about love. He just didn't care about it. Jongdae liked to joke that Baekhyun’s first love was archery – Baekhyun would have smiled at that back then, but now there was something that just sounded wrong about it and made the unease in his chest ring deeper. 

 

Jongdae pressed on the button once they were done choosing, and Baekhyun could see him wiggle on his seat in apprehension, but his friend's face fell instead when the waiter arrived, and Baekhyun quickly understood why. 

 

“You're not Seulgi.” Jongdae said in a deadpan, and Baekhyun could see the soul escaping from his body, waving goodbye as it rose to heaven. 

 

“I'm not.” Tree-hugging Guy replied with a sheepish smile. 

 

Baekhyun was staring at him, wondering just what the hell the guy was doing there with an apron around his waist and a little notepad between his hands. He saw how the guy’s eyes glanced to his direction twice or thrice, but he said nothing outside from what any waiter usually said, taking their orders dutifully before walking away. He was limping slightly, Baekhyun noted before he looked back to Jongdae. 

 

“What is he doing here?” He asked nonchalantly as he pulled at the drawer under their table, taking out a pair of chopsticks and a spoon for himself. “It feels like I keep seeing him nowadays.”

 

“Ah it's his mother's restaurant, the lady that greeted us warmly when we came in. Lee Young Mi. He's helping out tonight.” Jongdae said in a low voice, as if he was lost in thoughts, his eyes trailed toward the direction he had taken. He looked a bit worried, Baekhyun noticed, but he didn't ask why. “Name is Park Chanyeol by the way. He's a friend of mine.”

 

Baekhyun wasn't really surprised that Jongdae had Tree-hugging Guy as his friend – Jongdae had a lot of friends – he was just surprised that he had never heard of the guy from his friend before. Because Park Chanyeol wasn't the kind of person you could easily miss. For starters, he was a proper giraffe, and his ugly bright yellow raincoat only further enhanced Baekhyun’s statement. But then, there was just  _ something  _ about Tree-hugging Guy – no,  _ Park Chanyeol's _ presence that made it so that he couldn't be missed. He was just  _ overbearing _ , but in a warming way. As Baekhyun watched him smile to the clients, make small talk to some girls or even make a rose out of a napkin for a crying little girl, he realized after some minutes that he was smiling too. 

 

“He’s a brave guy.” Jongdae’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Surprised, Baekhyun turned his head to look at him, eyes signaling he was listening. “I actually admire him, he's always so positive and shining.”

 

“You're quite of a happy little pill yourself.” Baekhyun said as his index traveled up and down the metallic chopstick. 

 

“Ah but it's…  different.” Jongdae said as his gaze traveled back to Park Chanyeol – Baekhyun followed. Chanyeol was talking to Seulgi, whispering in her ear as his hand was gently settled on her arm. “He’s been through a lot, but he's still so positive. I admire that about him.” Jongdae stopped talking and smiled as he saw Seulgi approaching with their meals. 

 

Baekhyun left him for a bit, discreetly slipping his soothing cream tube in his pocket as he excused himself to the toilets. 

 

The music inside was some lounge and chill sound, and he let himself breathe a bit. Standing in front of the mirror, he looked at himself. His face looked a bit pale, almost yellowish, and there were big blue hues under his eyes – he looked unhealthy, but he half blamed it on the weird neon light, and half on the stress he had been going through over the past weeks, and there was still the competition against Kyunghee University next week.

 

After having splashed some water on his face, he took the ointment tube and uncapped it. He could feel the stiffness and the pain slowly coming back now that the muscle was cooling down and reacting to the effort it had been exposed to the whole afternoon. The cream smelled a bit, but it always felt nice when he would apply it. 

 

As he was looking at the silver tube, he thought about Park Chanyeol going to the pharmacy to buy it for him, probably worrying about what kind of brand to take. The one he had chosen was by far the most expensive. Baekhyun knew this brand – he had used it when he had sprained his index once. He worried his lower lip between his teeth, exhaling through his nose. 

 

In truth, he didn't know what to do. He was still outrageously pissed at the guy for ploughing into him with his bike, but to be honest, it was also Baekhyun's fault for not being careful. He should have seen him coming but, he had been too caught up in his thoughts and emotions. Back then, he had mainly snapped at Park Chanyeol because he had been already irritated, and he had gotten a scare when he had realized that his wrist had been hurt in the process just before an important competition. But Chanyeol had shown to be apologetic enough, and Baekhyun just shouldn’t have been so resentful. 

 

Suddenly, someone opened the toilet’s door, making Baekhyun jump as he wasn’t expecting it, too lost in his thoughts. It was Park Chanyeol. Baekhyun just looked away, looking for the cap of his ointment tube which he had dropped in his surprise. 

 

“Urm-” Park Chanyeol cleared his throat. Baekhyun’s eyes darted to him, looking at him with some curiosity – the guy seemed a bit tense, as if scared that Baekhyun would just go ninja on him all of a sudden. But well, it was pretty understandable seeing how their last interactions had gone. “How is your wrist?” Chanyeol said as he tilted his chin toward said wrist. Baekhyun looked down at it, shrugging.

 

“It’s pretty fine. You shouldn’t worry anymore.” He said a bit more coldly than he had intended to. So he tried to sound nicer afterwards, but the words just didn’t seem to be coming out right. “Thanks... For the medicine.” He muttered under his breath, sounding more passive-aggressive than thankful, and unable to look at Park Chanyeol in the eyes. He wasn’t good at all those social interaction things. Really not. He pretty much just wanted to bolt out of the room and crawl back into his booth. 

 

“I want to apologize again. Django’s breaks, well, my bicycle’s breaks – its name is Django – anyway, they-” Chanyeol stuttered a bit, still a few feet away from Baekhyun, seemingly scared of being suddenly shouted at. Meanwhile the latter had his brows scrunched in confusion as he was trying to digest the fact that the ugly monster metallic thingy had a proper  _ name _ . His head was starting to hurt, and the weight on his chest was turning heavier again, toying with his air supplies. “They weren’t functioning and I only realized when I was going down the slope; I couldn’t slow down, and then you appeared and I just lost control, kinda. It’s my fault, I should have checked beforehand.”

 

This did something to Baekhyun. To think that he was now injured just before his competition because of someone’s recklessness and an old supposed  _ bicycle named Django _ – it gave him murderous desires.

 

“How can you call this ticking-bombish metal disaster a  _ bicycle _ – moreover give it a  _ name _ ?!” Baekhyun rolled his eyes. He didn’t know why he was suddenly feeling pissed. He hadn’t meant to snap, on the contrary, he had wanted to thank the guy for his apology, but this was just too much – the stress that was filling his lungs was just too much and he knew that he was saying things he would regret later but he just couldn’t stop them from filtering out of his mouth. “It’s fine, I don’t need your apology.” He brushed it away, and Park Chanyeol stepped to the side when he saw that Baekhyun was going for the door. “Just stop riding it, it’s a rolling _ disaster _ – if it can even be said that it is rolling and not  _ plowing _ .” 

 

He didn’t have the time to see Chanyeol’s broken expression as he slammed the door shut behind him after saying those words. And Chanyeol was left to stare at the forgotten ointment tube. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Jongdae was taken aback to see Baekhyun marching back to their booth with steam coming out of his ears.

 

“Did something happen in the toilets?” He asked cautiously. Baekhyun didn’t respond, but got his answer when he saw Chanyeol come out of the toilets looking like a kicked puppy, with a troubled expression at something that he was holding in his hand. 

 

He sighed, taking a sip from his fresh apple juice and side-eyeing both of his friends. In fact, he hadn’t come here just to see Seulgi. He was indeed interested in the girl, but his first reason for coming here was that Chanyeol asked him to bring Baekhyun. Why, he hadn’t told Jongdae, but apparently it was important to him, so Jongdae as a good friend had agreed. It wasn’t like he minded, and he had gotten a bonus out of it by seeing Seulgi. But it seemed that things hadn’t exactly gone as Chanyeol had expected, judging by how defeated he looked. But Chanyeol, being Chanyeol, quickly put back a smile on his face, burying the thing he had been holding in his apron pocket. He would be alright, Jongdae thought – Chanyeol would always be alright no matter what hurdle was making him trip. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Thank you for your hard work today, Seul.” Chanyeol smiled at the younger girl gently, which she returned to him. 

 

“You should sit down; you’ve been limping a lot tonight.” She said as she tried to push him into one of the bar’s stools. He chuckled at her manners – she was nagging him again.

 

“You make me sound like a grandpa when you tend to me like this.” He teased as he flicked her forehead gently but didn’t fight back, letting himself fall on the seat. 

 

His leg had been hurting him a bit tonight indeed. Sighing, he pulled his pants up, revealing his prosthesis while Seulgi went to lock the front door of the restaurant. Ms. Lee soon arrived with fresh water and some leftover fried chicken for both of them – her expression switched to a sullen look when she saw her son take off his prosthetic leg. 

 

“You should have told me if it was hurting. You didn’t have to help out today; I could have done the service with Seulgi.” She sighed, ruffling Chanyeol’s hair which he had untied after they closed down. She liked to feel his hair like this, between her fingers. 

 

“Nah it’s fine,” he shrugged. “I should have just put on more socks – it was my fault. And it wasn’t even hurting that much.” He said as he pulled down three different socks that he was wearing, and then liner, revealing his naked stump. There were no blisters thankfully, just some redness here and there. Seulgi brought him the hydrating cream, which he thanked her for. 

 

“When is your new prosthesis coming, again?” His mother asked as she went to fetch his crutches, leaning them against the bar counter. 

 

“In ten days or so, they said. Maybe less. They said they would call me.” Chanyeol pressed a kiss against her cheek before he started digging into the food with a smile.

 

Ms. Lee couldn’t help but smile at her son, pushing some locks of hair that threatened to go into his food while he ate behind his ear. The muscles in his stump had shrunk a bit, which was a common happening for below-the-knee amputees, so now his prosthesis was slightly too big for him, which made it so that he had to put on more socks around his stump for it to fit properly in the prosthesis without slipping off or hurting him. 

 

“Yeol, what is this?” Seulgi asked between two munches of fried chicken as she pointed at the ointment that was seated in front of the young man. 

 

“Ah, a customer forgot this in the toilets.” He said with a sheepish smile. Seulgi just nodded, satisfied with the response. He stared at it or while, forgetting that his food was getting cold.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

The night was cold and he hadn’t taken a coat. He told himself that it explained the fact that he was sent into a coughing fit for no apparent reason – it was wet and he could feel the phlegm going up his throat. He took out a tissue from his pocket, spitting into it.  

 

In the restaurant, when Seulgi and his mother had started talking about their drama and were readying to watch the new episode, it had been Chanyeol’s cue to leave. He had claimed that he needed some fresh air and had left with his crutches under his arms, his pant sleeve rolled back up so it wouldn’t get dirty on the ground, since he hadn’t put his prosthesis back on. He wanted Stumpievski to get some fresh air too . Yes, that was the name of his stump.

 

Leaning against the wall, his eyes were observing Django. The bicycle was tied to their small rack, the streamers floating in the air. There was a new addition to Django now – Chanyeol had bought little multicolored star clippers for the spokes of its wheels. They looked nice, he thought, and the bicycle repair store owner had given him a discount for them after seeing how he was gawking at them with envy. They were just perfect for Django, Chanyeol had thought – after all, Django was a star. 

 

“You’re not a rolling disaster.” He pouted as he kicked away a pebble with one of his crutches. “He’s just jealous because he doesn’t have a bike as nice as you, Django, don’t worry.” Chanyeol cooed as he caressed his bicycle. 

 

His fingers went to the streamers, staying tangled in them for a bit longer. He was about to sigh, but he heard someone do it before him. A hand came to comb his locks and he smiled to the newcomer.

 

“She would have liked the stars.” He said to Seulgi, leaning his head against her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him gently.

 

“She would.”

 

She kept combing his hair with her fingers gently, and it made Chanyeol smile despite the prickle of sadness in his heart. He was alright.

He had to be. 

  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  


“Nine!“ Baekhyun shouted as he glanced at the target, passing by it. 

 

He kept inhaling steadily from his nose and exhaling from his mouth, feeling his lungs fill and his heart thump in his ears. From afar, he could see that Daehyun was getting closer to the shooting point where Wonwoo had just dropped the bow, starting to run too. 

 

Coach Choi had decided for a new type of training that day. Since the competition was getting closer, and it was a team competition, he had decided to focus on one point – team coordination. During a team competition, three archers would each shoot an arrow, and their scores would add up together. It was all about trust, confidence, and tactic. 

 

Baekhyun saw that Daehyun took the bow in front of him as he was getting closer. 

 

Their exercise was simple. In teams of three people, they would do an archery relay race. The first person would start running toward the target, meanwhile the second would have to shoot on it just before the first person reached it – the latter would have to shout the points, and then the second person would give the bow to the third person before running to the target while the first person would run back to get the bow from the third one. All this had to be done while running and the group had to find a steady rhythm. Another point about this sort of exercise was that running created an adrenaline rush which usually created a similar effect to stress,making it harder to focus on the target. So this was also a way to train muscle memory and overcome the effects of stress on their shooting. 

 

“Ten!” Baekhyun heard Wonwoo shout. He arrived to the shooting spot, and Daehyun handed him the bow before he started sprinting toward the target. 

 

Baekhyun got into position, extending his bow arm and pointing the stabilizer of his bow toward the target – he pulled on his string, feeling it pressing against the corner of his lips. But then pain shot through his wrist and his fingers trembled, a spasm making him release the string earlier than intended. Daehyun hadn't reached the target yet. 

 

“Byun Baekhyun!” 

 

Said one closed his eyes and exhaled. He could hear coach Choi walking his way. He dropped his bow, looking at the target. He had only hit eight points.

 

“Would you please mind telling me what this was?” The old man had his arms crossed over his chest, looking at Baekhyun with eyes akin to disappointment. The archer bit on his lower lip, unable to reply – his wrist was hurting him so much he wanted to let out a cry and clutch it, but he couldn't do that here, in front of his coach and his teammates. They couldn't know. 

 

“I thought I was ready, coach. I went ahead of myself; I am sorry.” He breathed with his head bowed, looking at his feet, a frown crumbling his brows. 

 

“This is a team competition, Baekhyun, not a solo race.” Coach Choi barked, evidently exasperated. Baekhyun kept his head low, fingers dug into his palm. 

 

Suddenly, the door of the archery room slid open, bringing with it the cold air of the outside that had most of the archers shiver. When he looked up, Baekhyun saw Chanyeol who was holding up plastic bags again. 

 

“Chicken delivery.” He smiled brightly, swinging the bags in front of him,completely oblivious to the tension present in the air. 

 

“Reflect on your mistakes. I want to hear you shoot while you say your teammates’ names. Twenty times for each, Jung Daehyun and Jeon Wonwoo, I want to hear you while we go to eat. You'll join us when you’re done, and the amount of food you'll eat will depend on your final score. I'll be watching so don't think of cheating.” The coach instructed firmly, and Baekhyun kept his head low all the while. 

 

“Yes coach!” He gripped the bow, turning around and getting into position, ignoring the eyes he could feel on him and the shame that was invading him. He did see Daehyun’s ugly crusty ass smirk as he walked by him when the coach called him to eat. 

 

Baekhyun’s fingers were still shaking when he uncurled them – there was no stopping it, it was like a painful throb that pulsated from his wrist and to his fingers. 

He extended his bow arm, tab hand pulling at the string. He pulled dryly, with a bit too much force, teeth gritted so he wouldn't feel the pain too much, but it was insufferable. 

 

“Jeon Wonwoo!” He shouted as he released the string and watched the arrow plow into the yellow circle. Nine points. 

 

He got into position again. Pulled at the string, teeth sunk in his lower lip, wrist on fire. He was holding his bow too strongly. 

 

“Jung Daehyun!”

 

Six points. His grip on the bow had been too harsh, making his stance wobbly and his bow arm unsteady. 

He picked another arrow from the bag, which he almost dropped from how numb his fingers were turning from the pain. 

 

“Chicken?” Someone suddenly appeared beside him, pushing a box of greasy chicken at his face. Of course it was Park Chanyeol. 

 

“No thanks.” He said curtly as he settled his arrow on his bow. 

 

“Come on, you need to eat. Coach Choi said you could.” Chanyeol said with a kind smile as he nudged Baekhyun with the box again, but the latter just sighed soundly before getting in position, ignoring the guy’s stupid smile and trying to push to the back of his mind the fact that his ugly yellow raincoat was hurting his eyes. 

 

He was about to seize his string when suddenly a hand grabbed his wrist – the one that hurt – and pulled his arm. 

 

“Stop this! You're hurt!” Chanyeol pleaded, but Baekhyun barely heard him from the loud pained wail he let out. 

 

“Fuck you, what's your problem?!” He instinctively jerked his hand away from the hold, freeing his suffering wrist. But in the moment, he hadn't noticed that he had put too much force into it, making Chanyeol lose his balance and drop the box of chicken. 

 

The food fell to the ground, greasy honey-glazed chicken wings scattered on the floor making a show of pity.

 

Baekhyun stood there frozen, unable to move, his blood having dropped, heart as if not beating anymore. He saw how slowly Chanyeol's face broke after it had washed away the surprise, but what topped it all was the way he forced a smile, lips pulling up in an apparent effort to  _ seem fine _ . And he slowly sat on the ground, taking the box he started picking up the fallen pieces of chicken from the floor with his bare hand, all while smiling. 

 

Baekhyun crouched down, guilt flooding him as he started to pick up the pieces of chicken too. He hated how greasy it felt against the pads of his fingers, how uncomfortable it made him, triggering his OCD, but the guilt was bigger, like a lump in his throat that keeps growing and growing, preventing him from breathing. The silence was suffocating, cut by some coughs from the guitarist, and Chanyeol's fake smile was like a repetitive jab to Baekhyun’s heart. 

 

The boy wiped the honey sauce from the floor with a tissue he had taken out of his pocket, before throwing it into the box. Then, looking up into Baekhyun’s eyes, he muttered a small ‘sorry’, always with the same heart wrenching smile, before he tried to get up with more effort than necessary, his body moving slowly and cautiously, a bit stiff. And Park Chanyeol walked away, limping more than yesterday. 

 

The door of the archery room slid open, letting the cold air in again, but this time, to Baekhyun it felt like it didn't leave. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The only sound that could be heard was the one of the metallic chopsticks clinking as they picked up the food. Even Ms. Bang who was washing the dishes while they ate tried to make the least sound possible. The tension had been thick since Baekhyun’s mother had come to pick him up after practice. They hadn’t spoken, she had just asked how it had gone, and he had said fine. Now he was staring at the fried snapper that sat at the center of the table, looking at him with his dead eye while his mother would pick some pieces here and there as she ate it with her rice, her movements always so graceful even when she was eating in front of her own son and not some VIP client.  _ Domi-yangnyeom-gui  _ was usually one of Baekhyun’s favorite dishes, but he just couldn’t find his appetite, not when the fish staring at him made him think of the look that Park Chanyeol had given him as he had mouthed sorry – something Baekhyun should have been the one saying. 

 

“How is the preparation for the competition going?” His mother asked, her chopsticks clinking particularly loudly as she picked some  _ kimchi _ cabbage and set it on her rice. “I am thinking of speaking to your coach.” Baekhyun stiffened at that. Thinking back to what had happened today, there was no way that he would talk good of him. He needed to do better. He really needed to do better. “Next week’s competition is important; many sponsors will be there. It is said to be a good springboard for the World Championships, and you still have to qualify for it.” Her voice was cold, distant, like how a teacher would speak to a troublesome student. Baekhyun pressed his lips in a thin line, feeling his heart constrict. 

 

“Yes.” He breathed, staring at the fish in the eyes.

 

“Archery is all you’ve got.” His mother said matter-of-factly. “You’re not particularly intelligent, and you won’t ever achieve a big career in the path you have chosen. No one succeeds in life by being a coach. Look at coach Choi – he is wasting his life away.” 

 

Baekhyun dug his teeth into his tongue, feeling the bile come up. No matter how severe coach Choi’s techniques could get, Baekhyun looked up to him – he couldn’t stand hearing his mother badmouth him in such a way. Yet he couldn’t talk back to her either. So he just gritted his teeth, trying to remember to breathe.  

 

“Also you’re not particularly handsome – you’ve got your father’s features.” She said as she took a proper look at him, their eyes meeting for a fraction of a second before Baekhyun looked back at his food. The way she had said it showed how much resentment she still held for his father. Baekhyun’s nails dug into the table he was gripping. “You are too short for a man and your looks are unfortunately dull; surgery would be a wasted investment. You need to remember that the sponsors are only interested in you to model for them when you win competitions. So archery is indeed the only thing you have. if you don’t succeed during next week’s competition and do not qualify for the World Championships…” She didn’t finish her sentence, Baekhyun had gotten up from the table.

 

“I’m going to walk Mongryeong.” He said without looking at her, marching away with his fists curled. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He had gotten out of the house in a rush, leash in his hands and his corgi happily padding forward. He hadn’t even taken the time to change into his shoes, going out in his slippers and an old padded coat he had grabbed randomly. 

 

The cold was biting outside and he fumbled with his zipper while Mongryeong happily nibbled at his toes, wagging his tail excitedly, keen to play. Baekhyun sighed and tried to smile at him, caressing the little patch of fur behind his ear. Mongryeong looked at him for a while, as if reading his eyes. Baekhyun extended his hand and the corgi buried his warm and humid muzzle in the palm, letting out a low whine. Baekhyun made a circle with his thumb and index, and his pup immediately bolted, burying his snout in the circle which had Baekhyun laugh a bit. It was a restrained laugh – he was scared that laughing too loudly would bring his mother’s attention to them.

 

“Wanna go?” He pulled the leash and Mongryeong barked.

 

Both scurried down the slope where his house was situated, running aimlessly in the night, his dog guiding him God knows where. He just ran. He needed to get away – he needed to feel his lungs working, to bring down the monster that was growing in his chest. 

 

His fingers were getting numb from the cold, and the friction of the leash rubbing against his skin was uncomfortable, especially since Mongryeong pulled on it as he ran, but it was a good distraction from Baekhyun’s thoughts. They arrived at  _ Pyeonghwa Park _ , which wasn’t so far away from their house. There were some people, especially couples who seemed to have deemed the time right for a little stroll. Baekhyun pulled the zipper of his coat higher, feeling it press against his upper lip as he tried to bury his face as much as possible in the collar. The cold air felt nice now, and the way his lungs sought for air in a healthy way after their little run made him feel awake. He crouched down, unleashing Mongryeong, who was unusually calm and looking at him. 

 

Baekhyun sat on the cement bench-like stairs by the wooden boardwalk that lined the pond. The moonlight reflected softly on the surface, waving under the wind and making the light dance on the dark water. Farther away, two teenagers were playing with a soccer ball, the latter bouncing on the wood in a dull resounding sound, rhythmically as they passed the ball between themselves. 

 

Mongryeong seemed to be waiting for something, but Baekhyun hadn’t taken any toy with him. He found a little stick on the ground by the bench. Picking it up, he threw it farther away, but the corgi didn’t budge, still looking at him. 

 

“Go fetch.” He said, waving his arms around to signal to his dog that he could go, but the animal didn’t move. Baekhyun ignored him – his mind wasn’t there. The words his mother had said still rang too deeply in his head, and he couldn’t focus on anything else – it was like a mantra that was slowly eating the last scraps of his sanity and held his head underwater. He punched his chest, trying to get the weight away, to make the pain pass, but it wouldn’t. He could hear Mongryeong whining, tugging at the hem of his pants and poking the tips of his shoes with his paw, calling for attention.

 

“What is it?” Baekhyun asked breathlessly. Of course Mongryeong didn’t reply. 

 

Instead, he walked with his little short legs toward Baekhyun, his body bouncing cutely before he ceased and buried his snout in Baekhyun’s ankles, whining shyly. Baekhyun picked him up from the ground and settled him on his lap. Mongryeong placed his paws on his chest, licking Baekhyun’s cheeks and pressing his snout against the side of his neck, claws scratching the front of his coat which made a weird high-pitched sound, making him startle himself. Getting defensive, the corgi’s body stiffened and he started barking at the coat, before he tentatively gave it another swat, his claws making the same high-pitched scratching sound that had scared him just a moment prior.  

 

Baekhyun laughed at his dog as he started barking at the coat in some hopes of maybe scaring it away. It was getting hilarious, watching his corgi try to get closer to him but being too scared of his coat and barking and pawing at it. Baekhyun’s cheeks were hurting from how much he was laughing and there were tears that were accumulating at the corner of his eyes. The two boys were staring at him out of curiosity, Baekhyun saw them, but he didn’t care. He caught Mongryeong, who was still barking, and hugged him to his chest, the puppy wiggling his paws in the air and barking in happiness. 

 

Baekhyun's chest felt lighter now.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“This room stinks.” Chanyeol whined as he pulled at the cushion and threw it to the floor, more gladly setting his head on the mattress than the stinky thing. Sehun was looking at him with an half-bemused smile. 

 

“Your apartment would’ve been better.” He retorted dryly, his hand going up and down Chanyeol’s arm. “But you never want to go there.”

 

The latter was lying half-naked, only his shirt having come off in their make-out session, but he had stopped Sehun before they could have gone further. It seemed that tonight he just wanted to be taken care of, and Sehun didn’t mind. They were friends before anything else. Special kind of friends, but friends. Their legs were tangled – Chanyeol having taken his prosthesis off first thing when he had entered the hotel room saying the damned thing hurt too much – and he had his back turned to Sehun while the latter massaged him. 

 

“My mother sometimes comes there unannounced.” Chanyeol grunted as Sehun pressed on a spot that was particularly painful. “Schnitzel, I don’t know why it’s like this.” 

 

“Do you still go to the gym?” Sehun asked as he tried to press the area a little more gently. Chanyeol hummed in response. He seemed to be a bit lost in thoughts tonight, so Sehun didn’t push him – he knew not to. 

 

He had been friends with Chanyeol for years, and he knew how the guy worked. If there was something bothering him, he would come to you for comfort, but there were few chances that he would tell you what was wrong. He didn’t like bothering people with his troubles. 

 

Chanyeol was staring at his hand, curling and uncurling his fingers, with a frown settled between his brows while he was pinching the tip of his fingers on his right hand. They were numb again. They had been so the whole day, and it was also the reason why he had dropped the chicken earlier when he had proposed some to Baekhyun. 

 

“Ah  _ fudge _ .” He punched the mattress with his numb hand, but he couldn’t feel anything. A cough rose from his lungs, and he tried to stifle it. 

 

Sehun took his hand and kissed his knuckles while Chanyeol stared at him, but his thoughts were elsewhere – thinking of a handsome archer who had been wearing anger on his body today as he had shot his target. 

 

He hugged Sehun closer.

  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  
  


He could feel his clothes sticking to his skin from the sweat, and despite the frigid breeze, he didn’t feel cold. The sun was seeping out an orange mellow light in the skies, making the foliage of the ginko trees look even more radiant than they actually were. In his ears were the sound of rain and thunderstorms and in his chest was happiness stimulated by the endorphin that was coursing in his veins from their jog. They got out of the park onto _ Wausan _ street. Baekhyun let his hand graze against the painted wall as they sprinted down the slope, making it the last step of their usual weekly jogging routine. 

 

There was a mural of blue skies and lush grass painted on the park’s wall with different animals that seemed to be coming straight out of children books. Bunnies wearing little knitted tops and geese with pink dresses and tiaras all gathered around a little pond in what seemed to be a park, with mountains painted in the horizon. Then the mural vanished and they would run past an old brick wall that signaled the street that entered their university. 

 

“Chanyeol told me he would bring chicken again today.” Jongdae said with a grin as he looked at Baekhyun, cheeks flushed from the effort and a little bit out of breath. “Last one at the archery room gives the other his share!” He screamed like a pterodactyl before sprinting off, leaving Baekhyun, who hadn’t heard him over the nature’s music playing in his ears, to wonder just which bug had bitten his friend. 

 

He arrived to the archery room just after Jongdae, but his friend was pouting. 

 

“Looks like Yeol still isn’t here.” Jongdae gave a careless shrug, but looked perplexed. Baekhyun didn’t say anything, stuffing his iPod in his pocket. “Are you going home or are you staying a bit longer?” His friend asked.

 

“I’ll go make some more shots before going.” Baekhyun replied, unzipping his jacket. He was glad that the room was heated. Jongdae nodded, waving his hand at him as he headed to the showers.

 

Baekhyun’s bow was just where he had left it. Taking it, he went in front of his target. Daehyun, Wonwoo, Byulyi and Taemin were there, practicing their shots too. Coach Choi seemed to be explaining something to the latter. Baekhyun exhaled. The coach hadn’t made any remark about yesterday’s incident, but Baekhyun still kept a low profile. He wondered whether his mother had called him or not, but Coach Choi would have probably told him about it. 

 

So he spent a good fifteen minutes practicing his shots. It always felt good to do it after a run – usually his score would go up. Running with some music on was a good way for him to unwind and keep his composure in front of the target, tomorrow he would go to the gym. This morning his wrist had been doing a bit better – he had slept with the cooling patch on. 

 

“It seems like the chicken delivery won’t come today.” Baekhyun heard Wonwoo say as he released his string. Daehyun who was beside him shook his head while letting out a small dry chuckle.

 

“Of course he wouldn’t, after being treated like shit yesterday by some stuck-up braggart.” He said bitterly as he clearly glanced at Baekhyun without even being discreet. 

 

Baekhyun drew his bow, focusing on his target before releasing his string. Bull’s eye. 

 

“Ah, this is boring.” He sighed more loudly than necessary as he went to pick up his arrows. 

 

He didn’t wait for Daehyun’s reaction, going directly into the changing room after he had packed up his gear. 

 

He kept his back straight and his strides confident, but there was just something gnawing in his chest – something very similar to guilt. The sight of Park Chanyeol’s forced smile had been printed on the back of his eyelids since it had happened, and he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was responsible for it. Worrying his lower lip between his teeth, he entered the showers.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

It had been stronger than him. He was sitting on the bus, hugging his bow case to his chest, tapping his foot despite himself. The bus wasn’t so crowded that evening, but it was overheated as usual, and even unzipping his coat didn’t make it easier. Thankfully, he was sitting by the door so it permitted him to get some gushes of fresh air as soon as it would open, but his only wish was to arrive promptly at the station. Then his stop was announced, and he practically jumped off the bus, gasping for air and sighing in relief. He really couldn’t stand public transportation – it always made him feel so on edge, and it was even worse during winters when those metallic moving things would be heated like hell and just make it impossible to breathe normally. 

 

Looping his bow case to his shoulder, he began to walk the same path that Jongdae had showed him last time. He couldn’t even tell what he was doing, but there was like a force pulling him there – guilt. He just needed to see Park Chanyeol and make sure that the guy was smiling dumbly as he always was and reassure his annoying subconscious that the boy was fine. He tried to tell himself that there was no way the reason why Park Chanyeol hadn’t come was because of their little altercation the day before, yet his heart was in his guts and he just couldn’t push away the feeling that he had done something wrong. 

 

_ Big Cock Chicken _ was in front of him, the lights still on, and they had added Christmas lights to the staircase railing and to their balcony, which blinked from pink to blue in a synchronous rhythm. Slowly, he walked up the stairs, feeling dread slowly crawl up his chest. He stopped midway, rethinking his actions, but then a couple came down the stairs and stared at him weirdly. Without thinking he climbed the last stairs and found himself opening the restaurant’s door, the bell tingling louder than it had last time according to his memory. 

 

“Baekhyun!” A voice chirped and warmth filled him as hands set on his shoulders and he was brought into a hug. It was always so surprising, how kind and loving without boundaries Ms. Lee was. She was natural, like there was nothing overdone in her actions and everything she did seemed so sincere – she was hugging Baekhyun because she wanted to, and it made him feel nice. It was so foreign to him.  

 

“Should I set a table for you? Are you alone?” She asked as she held his arm gently, about to lead him in a booth, but he stopped her.

 

“Urm actually,” He cleared his throat. “I came to see if Chanyeol was here.” His voice was small, but she still heard him. She blinked a bit, apparently taken aback, before she smiled sweetly at him.

 

“No, I gave him the day off, he wasn’t feeling so good.” She brushed Baekhyun’s bangs away from his eyes instinctively, with the care of a mother poured into her guest. Baekhyun was a bit startled but he didn’t show it. “Do you want me to give you his address? Was it for something important? I can call him if you want.” 

 

Baekhyun shook his hands with haste, not wanting to bother her, nor Chanyeol. 

 

“It’s fine, it wasn’t important.” He said as he smiled at her.

 

He was about to bid her goodbye when she cut him:

 

“Right, my son told me that you are in the archery team and that you have an important competition coming up!” She beamed as she hurried to the counter where the beverage fridge was. “Take this, it’s nothing much but it’s good for the energy; you will need this for practice.”

 

Baekhyun was given a blue thermos bottle with a sticker of a unicorn dabbing pasted on it. He blinked, staring at it with questions in his eyes. 

 

“It’s freshly made  _ sujeonggwa _ .” Ms. Park said with a smile. “It’s Chanyeol’s bottle but I’m lending it to you. You can just give it back to him once you’re done when you see him on campus, don’t worry. It’s good for digestion so you won’t get sick before your match.” Baekhyun uncapped the bottle and was invaded by the sweet, sweet smell of cinnamon. He smiled.

 

“Thank you.” he said with a bow. Ms. Park smiled back at him, and there seemed to be some fondness in her eyes that caught Baekhyun off guard. He found himself blushing.

 

“Could you not tell Chanyeol I came today? I…”

 

“Don’t worry.” She reassured him, and in her candid smile, Baekhyun somehow found the reassurance that things were okay. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

“It feels like I am seeing you a lot lately.” Ms. Moon said with a sceptical frown, but her eyes were shining and her tone playful. Chanyeol grinned at her, pushing his hair back behind his ear. 

 

“You don’t trust me when I say I have a crush on you.” He pouted but his stance was flirtatious as he leaned against the counter, winking at her. The old lady blushed a bit but flicked his forehead, making him wince childishly.

 

“What are you here for today?” She asked. “Did you plough into someone again with that wonky bicycle of yours?”

 

“Django isn’t wonky.” Chanyeol furrowed his brows and pouted again, crossing his arms over his chest before he leaned against the counter again. He couldn’t lean on his right leg too much, it was still hurting. He knew he should have came with his crutches and be reasonable, but he hated using them. It felt as if he was giving up – being weak. And that wasn’t in Park Chanyeol’s dictionary. 

 

“Right.” She rolled her eyes. He had had this bike since he was thirteen – it was more than just wonky. But she let it pass. She knew he had his reasons to love it. “Say,” she changed the topic, “how did it go with that friend whom you bought medicine for last time? Is he better?”

 

Chanyeol blinked a few times at the question, remembering that he still had the ointment tube in his coat’s pocket. It wasn’t getting better, he could see it everyday, how Baekhyun was pretending to be fine, drawing on his bow with the same vigorousity and diligence as ever, overlooking the obvious pain he was going through. He didn’t like it. He wished Baekhyun would go to a doctor to get it checked, or at least rest a bit, but it’s not like he was more in a place to speak.

 

Phlegm suddenly stuffed his throat and he coughed, just fast enough to take out a tissue and cough into it. He did see how Ms. Moon, the pharmacist frowned, definitely not pleased by this, but he just smiled when he felt better.

 

“Chanyeol, you know I love seeing you, but I wish you didn’t have to come so often here. It’s a pharmacy.” The aged lady sighed as she went to grab the usual coughing syrup that Chanyeol came for – she knew he hadn’t gone to the doctors. He was a stubborn child. She handed him the bottle while he searched for some cash in his wallet. 

 

She observed him. Ms. Moon was friends with Chanyeol’s mother Lee Young Mi, which had been one of the reasons why the latter had finally agreed on letting her son live on his own – she knew he was in trusted and caring hands. Chanyeol had grown well into a young and handsome man. The beauty of his heart could be seen on his features, she liked to say. But Mrs. Moon didn’t miss how he kept leaning on the counter, how he didn’t quite let his foot – of his prosthetic leg – on the floor, and how his mouth would sometimes twitch when he would put his weight on it. He was really too stubborn for his own good. 

 

“Take this, it’s on the house – you need to take care of your stump you idiot.” She flicked him on the forehead again and he cried out in pain – a bit exaggeratedly, admittedly.

 

“You’re going to ruin my handsome face like this!” He whined before taking the medicines that she had set in a bag. 

 

“Go, go.” She shooed him away with her hands. “Go away and never come back here! Be healthy, bad kid!” 

 

Chanyeol giggled as he ran outside of the pharmacy, blowing her a kiss before he exited. 

 

Mrs. Moon sighed as she watched the door close itself, the bell tingling.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It was cold against his stomach but he didn’t really care, hugging the thermos under his coat while his other hand was holding the leash. Mongryeong was happily gambolling in front of him, stopping from time to time to sniff at a lamppost or to paw at a pebble. Baekhyun rubbed his hand over the bump on his belly, where the thermos was. He hadn’t wanted to leave it at home, fearing that Ms. Bang would find it and maybe toss it, not recognizing it as one of Baekhyun’s belongings. 

 

_ Donggyo-dong _ was slowly getting busier as the sun had hid away and the nightlife was coming back to life – it was a Friday night so it would be even busier. There were a lot of students on the streets – girls taking selfies as they sat in cafés and some couples walking together. 

 

They had been strolling the _ Gyeongui Line Forest Park  _ for a while now and Mongryeong seemed tired. Baekhyun followed his phone, looking for the fastest way to get home – he didn’t really feel like going back, the weight on his chest coming back just at the thought of it, but he had to feed his little pal, and he was starting to get hungry too. 

 

They were walking down a slope on a narrow street, only buildings around them when Mongryeong suddenly barked and bolted forward, surprising Baekhyun who let go of the leash as his wrist was jolted by the pain from the sudden tug. The corgi ran away, and Baekhyun was about to run after him when he realized that Mongryeong had stopped at the middle of the slope, happily wiggling his butt as he was pawing at someone’s legs. 

 

He saw the yellow raincoat, and then his eyes met bright almond shaped eyes that were surprised for a fraction of a second before shimmers appeared in them and they turned warm.

 

“Hey.” Park Chanyeol greeted a bit shyly. 

 

Baekhyun parted his lips, but his voice wouldn’t come out, so he just nodded, walking closer.

 

“This is your dog I guess.” Chanyeol said warmly He was smiling so tenderly at Mongryeong that Baekhyun could only breathe a little ‘yeah’ as he watched Park Chanyeol crouching down to pet his dog. Mongryeong seemed joyous, lapping at the palm that was presented to him and turning on himself as he tried to nibble on it but Chanyeol would dodge the dog’s tiny jaw, resulting in the corgi going in circles. He heard a coo which oddly sounded like “he’s so cuuuute” coming from Park Chanyeol. 

 

Baekhyun didn’t say anything as he observed the guy, hugging the still hidden thermos closer to himself. He seemed like the happiest guy ever, clapping his hands like a seal when Mongryeong would do even the smallest thing such as wiggling his butt or giving him his paw. He was radiating happiness and joy, and it had Baekhyun smiling earnestly somehow. He felt peace enveloping his soul, and he just felt good like this, in a barely lit street, no stars in the sky and mist coming out of his mouth, turning into condensation on the wool of his scarf. He buried his nose there, hiding the smile that was blooming on his lips as he watched Park Chanyeol interact with Mongryeong. 

 

“I want to kidnap him so badly.” Chanyeol said with a pout as he hugged the corgi against his chest. Mongryeong seemed in a state of bliss, his paws flailing in the air in drunken happiness. “What’s his name?”

 

“I kinda need him in my life. He’s my Mongryeong.” Baekhyun chuckled under his breath as he crouched down in front of Chanyeol and rubbed Mongryeong’s tummy, making the corgi wiggle a bit more. 

 

“Can’t we have shared custody over the child?” Chanyeol’s pout was increasing and Baekhyun just couldn’t keep it in. His laugh came out melodiously like a bird's song, and Chanyeol was just left breathless, blinking in marvellousness. 

 

Baekhyun was so beautiful when he was happy. With his head thrown back, the line of his neck was bewitching, and his lips stretched in an endearing rectangle, nose scrunching so adorably that Chanyeol just wanted to hug him as much as he loved hugging the corgi. 

 

It was probably this fleeting wave of emotions that made him blurt the next words:

 

“Could I take you to eat some _ ramyeon _ ?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

That was how Baekhyun had ended up in Park Chanyeol’s studio, sitting with his knees against his chest by a small traditional wooden table, Mongryeong laying in a sploot beside him while Chanyeol was cooking some ramyeon on the little electrical hot plate that was plugged next to his sink. His fingers were scratching the back of Mongryeong’s ear as he looked at his surroundings. 

 

The studio was quite small, really. It was just a single room with everything jumbled inside. His back was leaning against the bed, a single mattress propped on a metallic bedstead that looked quite cheap and a bit rusty. There was the small traditional table beside it which could probably barely hold three plates on it, and then there was the sink with a cupboard above it and a very small wooden counter, with a tiny fridge under it that seemed to be stuffed with Tupperwares of kimchi and chicken obviously, as well as some bottles of  _ Banana Mat Milk _ – the taste of a child, really. 

 

The most disturbing aspect, though, aside from the facts that the apartment could barely hold the both of them together inside, was that the shower was just in front of the bed and was completely see through, just a little glass cubicle of some sort with nothing to hide. There was a little plastic stool inside of it too and various bottles of shampoos here and there, fallen to the ground. Very rudimentary. 

 

Then something caught his eyes. Above the bed there was a shelf that went along the whole wall and on it were numerous trophies placed, standing all in line and shining despite the dust they were gathering. Baekhyun cranes his neck a bit as he spun his head around to take a better look at the shelf from afar. There were also some medals hanging from it, against the wall on which various pictures were pasted. The biggest one showed a boy wearing baseball attire with the name of a private high school in Seoul he had heard of. He was on a field and had his foot on the base as he was lying on the ground, all disheveled and dirty but grinning madly as he was holding up the ball. 

 

Baekhyun’s eyes travelled to his host. Park Chanyeol was standing by the counter, stirring the instant noodles before tearing open the small bag of condiments inside and cracking two eggs open and then he stirred again, covering the whole thing. 

 

He studied him. Chanyeol had long, bow-shaped legs, he couldn’t see much of them from the sweatpants that the guy was wearing. He had discarded his ugly yellow raincoat – finally – as they had entered and was now sporting their university hoodie. His shoulders were lean and his uncovered forearms showed some well-defined muscles, not too much but just enough to show that he was fit. It was obvious that Park Chanyeol worked out, or maybe practiced some kind of sport – was he still playing baseball? 

 

His hair wasn't tied for once, Baekhyun noted, the soft-looking locks sliding along his neck and reaching just above his shoulders, grazing them. They had a pretty dark ebony color that reminded him of the dark chocolate he liked to melt in the microwave when Ms. Bang would buy him bread as a snack. 

 

Baekhyun was suddenly startled out of his mooning when a fuming pot was settled on the table in front of him, a spicy but still mouth-watering smell coming out of it. Chanyeol handed him a pair of chopsticks and a clean lid. 

 

“Dig in!” he said with a big smile as he slowly plopped himself down slowly, still knocking his knee on the table and grunting a bit. “I'm sorry, there's not a lot of space.” 

 

“It's cosy.” Baekhyun said with a small voice as he was still staring around. 

 

And he meant it. The studio was small, cramped, and the decorations mismatched but there was a homey feeling to it that made him feel comfortable. He liked it. 

 

“That's a first.” He heard Chanyeol chuckle after the guy had slurped down some noodles, some of the broth trickling down his chin which he wiped with his sleeve. “Usually people would say it's… Yeah, crappy. But I like it.”

 

Baekhyun looked at him, but when their gazes met, he quickly dropped his gaze down to the lid he was holding, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. 

 

“You should eat them fast or they will get soggy.” Chanyeol advised with his mouth full as he pointed to the pot with his chopsticks – Baekhyun scrunched his nose but nodded. He leaned in, looking into the pot. The broth smelled of salt and industrial dried vegetables and there was also the scent of  _ tonkatsu _ . It had his mouth water a bit in apprehension – he gulped.

 

“You’re looking at it as if it’s your first time having  _ ramyeon _ .” Chanyeol chuckled, but his eyes widened when he saw the way Baekhyun furrowed his brows, his cheeks getting the slightest bit of pink dust on them. “You’ve never had  _ ramyeon. _ ” He said in a deadpan, realisation hitting him powerfully.

 

“It’s unhealthy.” Baekhyun countered back, although looking slightly ashamed despite trying to act proud. 

 

Chanyeol watched him dig his chopsticks in the broth resolutely, looking for some  _ ramyeon _ , but the slimy things were hard to catch with metallic chopsticks, and as Baekhyun tried to bring them on the lid to use it as a plate, they instead ended up on the floor.

 

“Five!” 

 

Baekhyun almost got a heart-attack when he heard a high-pitched squeak sort of shout and then Chanyeol navigated his giant body over the table, or more like toppled it, almost knocking the pot off the table – which Baekhyun was just fast enough to catch – and grab the fallen ramyeon with his fingers from the floor before bringing them to his mouth and slurping it down soundly, face just the slightest bit flushed from this adventure. 

 

Baekhyun just stared at him, gaping like a fish out of the water, still holding the pot with one hand and the lid with another – speechless. Chanyeol blinked.

 

“Five seconds rule.” He shrugged. Baekhyun didn’t move, still too shocked by what had just happened. “You saw nothing.” Chanyeol shrugged again, crawling back to his place and occupying himself with the pot, chopsticks going for another serving of  _ ramyeon _ . 

 

“Oho.” Chanyeol suddenly perked up again, his index pointing toward something next to Baekhyun. The archer looked down and realized with dread what it was. The dabbing unicorn thermos.

 

“That’s…” He began hesitantly as he took the bottle, but was cut again.

 

“That’s mine, right?” Chanyeol asked, looking slightly surprised. 

 

“I saw your mom at the restaurant just before.” He tried to explain hastily. “She gave this to me saying it was good for digestion, that it would help for my competition, but you–”

 

“That’s nice of her.” Chanyeol had a warm smile dancing on his lips, making something ooze in Baekhyun’s chest, like a feeling of calmness he hadn’t expected. “I hope it helps.” Baekhyun who was holding the thermos hugged it against him, and Chanyeol tried not to squeal – the redness was back on his cheeks, despite his detached and cool stance he was trying to hold, not meeting Chanyeol’s gaze and instead being very immersed in looking at the stains on the walls to his right. 

 

Chanyeol could have probably stared at Baekhyun’s side profile for the whole evening like this. He had already done it plenty times already, to be honest. He would often find himself going to the archery room to sit on the bleachers and watch him practice. There was just something about Baekhyun when he was holding his bow and aiming at his target that pulled Chanyeol in, something in his intense gaze and in the aura that would ooze from him, like some sort of assurance that his arrow would go just where he wanted it to, that things would go just the way he wanted them to. It gave Chanyeol the feeling that things would go right, and he always found reassurance about his own worries when watching Baekhyun practice. 

 

That was his little secret though.

 

“Oh.” He jumped slightly, startled out of his mooning by a little ball of fur that came to rub itself against his crotch, snout ploughing just where it was slightly uncomfortable. He looked down to see Mongryeong who had apparently woken up from his little nap and seemed to be keen on getting in his lap. Gently, Chanyeol picked the corgi up and settled him correctly, his fingers giving him little tummy scratches that had the puppy paw in the air with delight. 

 

The fur felt nice under his fingers; it was so soft and warm and Mongryeong was just too adorable, making little whiny sounds every time Chanyeol would stop rubbing his tummy and pawing gently at his hand to beg him to keep on – which he would then do with a pleased smile. He knew that doing this was a bad idea – he had allergies and then he would have to go back to the pharmacy and Ms. Moon would scold him once again, but he didn’t really care. He was just so happy that of all people it was Baekhyun he was sharing ramyeon with tonight, and that he had gotten to meet his corgi too. There wasn’t any special kind of relationship between him and Baekhyun, not even a friendship to be honest, but it felt nice – it made him hope that maybe all the hard feelings between him and the boy he had been crushing on for months would wither away with the breeze of new beginnings. 

 

“I’m sorry about the other day.”

 

It had been spoken so softly, so gently that Chanyeol at first thought it was just his wishful imagination fueling his desires, but when he looked up, he saw that Baekhyun was twiddling with the chopsticks, and then his gaze shifted and met Chanyeol’s, earnest and regretful.

 

“I snapped at you when I shouldn’t have.” Baekhyun licked his lips and he was grasping at the chopsticks so hard his knuckles were white. “You were just concerned about me and I lashed out my stress and frustration on you. It wasn’t right. I apologize.” He bowed his head, and Chanyeol felt out of place. 

 

He flicked Baekhyun’s forehead, and the latter was startled by the movement, looking up so fast Chanyeol wondered how his neck didn’t snap.

 

“I’m not accepting your apology.” He blurted, and Baekhyun’s eyes widened, his lips parting.

 

Chanyeol had a stern face, dark eyes hard and his lips in a tight a severe line that had Baekhyun’s lungs constrict a bit with guilt. He moved his lips, about to say something, but then Chanyeol spoke first.

 

“I won’t accept your apology unless you do something for me.”

 

The glint in Park Chanyeol’s eyes was so, so dark, and his lips followed as they pulled up into a smirk that left Baekhyun breathless.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He felt light, so light – lighter than he had felt in  _ months _ , he realized. There was the shade of a smile dancing on his lips and a fluttering feeling in his chest; his steps were lighter too – it felt as if he was floating as he walked up the slope that lead to his house, Mongryeong trailing ahead and his leash clinking as he tugged on it. 

 

His smile was growing even more as he kept thinking about what had happened just moments ago. Park Chanyeol was really a whole specimen to himself, the kind that would go all ninja just to eat some fallen ramyeon before the five second rule ended, the kind that was so in love with dogs he had ended up with red puffy eyes because of his allergies, the kind that had let Baekhyun keep his favorite Thermos with a dabbing unicorn on it, and the one who had told him that he wouldn’t accept his apology unless Baekhyun accepted to become friends with him. 

 

Park Chanyeol was that kind of guy who always did the things you least expected, always taking you by surprise at a crossroad and sweeping you off your feet and away from your comfort zone. Yet Baekhyun found himself smiling about it. 

Park Chanyeol was just a – slightly odd and goofy – warm guy. A potential new friend.

 

The doorknob was cold under Baekhyun’s hand when he pushed the door open, but what was even colder was the stare his mother gave him as she set her spectacles back on the bridge of her nose as he entered the lounge.

 

“You were slacking off again.” She commented, voice sour.

 

Baekhyun bit on the inside of his cheek, head hanging low as he walked up to his room, his steps heavy and his fingers shaking around the Thermos with inexplicable guilt tugging at his heart. 

  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  
  


The sound of arrows restlessly hitting on the targets had a soothing effect on his mind. He disliked silence, for it made his solitude feel lonely. Being alone wasn’t really a problem to him as long as he didn’t feel lonely. It has been such since childhood when he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep without his radio on at nights and when the pitter patter of the rain against his window was absent. His mom would always scold him for this, saying there was no way he could have a good rest with all the sound, but Chanyeol made a point to never listen to her when it came to that. Noise was just his comfort zone. It was why he had came in the archery room that first time – although he had stayed for another reason as well.

 

“You look tired.” Jongdae said as he came to sit beside him on the bleachers. He eyed the food container that Chanyeol was hugging on his lap – it was the purple one this time, so tomorrow it would be the cyan one. “For Baekhyun again?” He pointed at it, and Chanyeol didn’t try to hide the small embarrassed smile that came up to his lips. He hugged the thermos tighter. 

 

He had been coming here everyday after class since that evening, making it a habit to leave some food his mom would cook for Baekhyun so he could eat healthily after his practice. He would always finish up late during those sessions – the competition was only four days away after all.

 

The tension could be felt in the archery room, although all the team members transferred it to their arrows, their movements sharp and precise. Coach Choi was cheering them on, moving from one member to another and analyzing their routine, giving them tips when needed, advices and such. 

 

Baekhyun had seemed to be solely focused on his target for days now. He wouldn’t do anything but shoot. In different exercises it seemed, Chanyeol wasn’t sure as he didn’t know much about archery – Baekhyun would only be looking away from his target when he would take a break to hydrate himself or to fetch back his arrows. There was one morning before classes when Chanyeol saw him from afar in the gym, working out on the pulley, but he didn’t dare to bother him, going to his own machine to exercise. 

 

“You’re dying to talk to him, right?” Jongdae asked as he leaned back on his seat, an air of confidence in his movement while his gaze was set on a completely oblivious Baekhyun. 

 

Chanyeol chewed on his lower lips, suppressing a sigh. His thumbnail kept tracing along the edge of the Thermos’ lid, making a very discrete scratching sound.

 

“He’s busy. I’m supporting him silently, that’s the best I can do.” He said, his gaze set on the archer as well. Baekhyun was brushing the sweat of his forehead with a wristband, eyes squinted as he seemed to be counting the points on the target. Chanyeol didn’t miss the way his bangs stuck to his sweaty forehead and the way his mussed up hair gave him a look that stirred things in his chest.

 

“You won’t go anywhere if you don’t embrace your guts and give them a great motivational squeeze.” Jongdae scolded as he smacked Chanyeol’s thigh, making the latter jump and almost drop his Thermos. 

 

“I wasn’t really intending on going anywhere.” He muttered like a sulking child under his breath, but Jongdae knew that wasn’t the truth. 

 

“You should do something about that crush of yours, Yeol.” Jongdae sighed – he sounded patronizing, but Chanyeol didn’t say anything about that, merely listening through one ear while still staring at the brunette in front of him. “It’s been what? Months?” His voice got high-pitched that how the situation was turning him mad could be heard by Jongdae’s tone. 

 

Chanyeol would have liked to tell him not to care about it but he knew. Jongdae always cared about his friends, all of them. He was just a kind person like that, and although sometimes a bit too overbearing, Chanyeol still liked him. It was precisely why he had told only Jongdae about that crush of his. But maybe he was regretting it a bit now. 

 

“You keep coming here but you barely talk to the guy.” Jongdae kicked the seat in front of him – Coach Choi glared at them but it seemed like he didn’t notice that part. “Nothing will happen if you expect Baekhyun to make the first move. The guy is married to his bow. You can’t lose against a fricking piece of plastic!”

 

“Should I remind you that I’m a bit of plastic too?” Chanyeol raised a brow at him playfully as he knocked on his prosthesis but Jongdae just rolled his eyes at him before punching him in the thigh. Hard.

 

“Shit that hurt.” Chanyeol wheezed. “I hope you broke your hand.”

 

“My hand is doing better than yourself, thank you.” Jongdae stretched his fingers, apparently not very hurt by the collision. Chanyeol was still having a hard time recovering, his thigh muscles were crying. 

 

“I don’t really wish for anything.” He whispered after a while, face sullen and eyes looking ahead but focusing on nowhere. Somewhere in his thoughts maybe, Jongdae didn’t pry. He felt a bit bad. “I do have some pining interest for Byun Baekhyun. Heck, he’s hot as hell.” He rolled his eyes although there was not much humor in his tone, just suffocating sincerity. “But that’s it. I’m not your datable kind of guy either.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t be of any good to him.” Chanyeol said in a tone that rang deep. 

 

Jongdae was finally looking at him, gaze hiding something that he didn’t even bother to decipher. He simply got up, setting the Thermos on Jongdae’s lap. His friend knew what to do with it.

 

“I’m going to drink it.” He warned as Chanyeol was setting his guitar case on his back. 

 

The latter just gave him a smirk above his shoulder. “Go on. I hope you choke on it.” He grinned.

 

Jongdae just winked back, holding a thumb up. “I’ll try not to disappoint you.”

 

Chanyeol chuckled at that before going, pulling on the straps of his guitar case and ignoring the pain in his stump. He was getting his new prosthesis soon. Soon. 

 

Jongdae watched him walk away, not missing the slight limp. He sighed, setting the Thermos beside him. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The bus was crowded and Chanyeol could feel people pushing on his guitar. It had his maternal instincts rise, and he was trying very hard not to just nudge that rude person away from his dear Lady Swing – yes, his guitar had a name too. 

 

All the seats were taken and his leg was really hurting, but asking for a seat wasn’t really his style. He would have more gladly taken Django to ride to his destination, but it was pouring outside and he knew better from past experiences. He leaned against the bar he was holding himself to, closing his eyes and enjoying the cold feeling on the metal against his temple. In his ears, Toto’s  _ Africa  _ was playing and that was all he needed, ignoring the judging stare an old lady was giving him. He couldn’t hear what she was muttering under her breath thanks to his music but the dirty glances she was giving to his leg were enough an indication that they were things he would prefer not hearing. He tuned out of the real world and into his own universe of music. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

Everyone was already gone. Coach Choi had left the spare keys for Baekhyun, trusting him to close the archery room once he finished. It was close to midnight and he could see from the tiny windows under the ceiling that the night was long since settled. Pulling the last arrows from the target, he settled them in his bag before walking back to the bleachers where his towel was. 

 

And like all the other days, there was a food container next to it. It stirred something in his chest. 

 

So Park Chanyeol had done it again. 

 

He had been coming every day leaving a Thermos full of his mother’s delightful dishes – always chicken of course – since they had agreed on being friends. 

 

Baekhyun never noticed him since he was always too caught up in his training, and it made him feel bad. Every time he would eat the food that Chanyeol would bring, he would make a mental note to thank him, or maybe pass by his mother’s restaurant to thank her since she was the one cooking for him, but he never got the occasion to do so. He was surprised that Chanyeol wouldn’t come to directly talk to him, just as he used to do in the beginning, but Baekhyun guessed that he probably just wanted to give him space. Coach Choi was always on their back too, not letting them slack off since the competition against Kyunghee University was just around the corner. 

 

Seating himself on the bench, he set the towel on his head after brushing his sweat off and then took the thermos, his hand going to graze over its metallic surface. On the purple steel, he noticed the little sticky note that had been left on it. His lips curled into a shy pout as he read the scribbles.

 

_ Someone wise once said that “A meal in your stomach is one step closer to the victory you’re working for”. Yes, that’s my mom, but my mom is cool. Anyway. I hope you enjoy this. Fighting \^o^/ _

__ \- PCY _ _

 

 

The handwriting was crappy to be honest, but the childish scrawl made him smile. He still had the other notes – they were all funny and motivating like the one in his hands and made him smile. Pulling his phone out, he pasted the note inside of his phone’s case, just like had done with the previous ones. He then closed it, his thumb running over the leather of the case. 

 

His stomach suddenly growled, reminding him that he had to be tended to and that there was food on his lap that was begging to be eaten. Chuckling, he cautiously opened the lid as to not spill anything and took the spoon out of its box. The smell of broth and chicken came to his nostrils and filled him with a lukewarm sense of comfort and happiness. It was like a warm fluffy blanket had just been settled on his shoulders and there were arms of a loving mother, just like the hug that Chanyeol’s mother had given him the last time. She was a warm person, and Baekhyun could definitely affirm it every time he would have a taste of her food. The  _ dakjuk _ was wonderful – the taste of the chicken was savory and the porridge was just perfectly seasoned, the carrots melting in his mouth and the green onions just the lightest bit crunchy, exactly how he liked it. 

 

He took his time savoring it, blowing on the meal and enjoying the feeling of the warm mist coming against his lips and contrasting with how cold the rest of his body was getting. The room wasn’t heated and winter was getting closer, which could be especially felt around that time. It was close to midnight according to his phone, but he didn’t feel like hurrying. He felt at home there, in the archery room. The solitude was nice, and the chicken porridge he was eating made him feel even better. With a smile on his lips, he ate in the comfortable silence, eyes lingering on the sticky note.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The lights were dim and some ambient smoke was filling the room, swaying like dancing clouds on the dusty scene. Different colored rays of light sashayed through the thin smoke, the air smelling of dust, wood and alcohol. He could barely feel the strings against the tips of his calloused fingers, yet the pressure was there and it felt just as how it should – familiar and reassuring in a sense. 

 

Lady Swing was humming her mellowest tune, catching both his heart and the souls of each person in the crowd as he sung his passion out, voice like a madeleine dipped in warm cocoa – hot, tender, and sweet. Dropping down to the lowest notes yet ringing with the innocence of an idealistic untainted child. The mic was almost pressed against his lips, cold and smelling of both metal and plastic. He could barely hear his own voice, but he closed his eyes and focused on his vocal chords, feeling them vibrate. 

 

His fingers were dancing on their own, knowing the rhythm by heart. He was getting lost in the music, soul wafting with the notes, like a slow dance that he was the master of – leading the path and charming his way through the hearts of the small audience that was watching him. 

 

He cracked one eye open and saw the little cup with a smiling heart scribbled on it that he had left at the edge of the scene where some customers were leaving coins – it made him smile before he closed his eyes again and tuned back into his music, the acoustic cover of  _ Send me an Angel _ by Scorpions leading his voice. 

 

He lost himself again. In the sound of what he loved the most, his body was swaying on the little wooden stool which he could feel creaking under his weight, and he gave his all for the small crowd that had gathered in the shady little bar of  _ Itaewon _ that Friday night, looking for a drink or two but leaving with their heart full and their ears buzzing with the soothing melodies sung by the gentle-looking guitarist with long hair, who gathered coins in his little styrofoam cup with the smiley red heart doodled on it. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Some young girls had caught him after his performance, asking for autographs on pieces of paper they had apparently torn out of a random planner. Chanyeol did it with a smile, chatting them up politely just as his usual extroverted self would always do. They were nice, preaching about how talented he was and how soothing and bewitching his voice was, and how cool he looked with his long hair brought in a messy bun like this. One asked for his phone number, but he had to decline, although his shyness appeared there. 

 

“Say, what is this little cup for?” One of them asked, the tiniest one that had eyes like ones of a cat – she was cute. She was pointing at his styrofoam cup which was pretty full with both bills and coins – it made him happy. 

 

“It’s for the Korean Childhood Leukemia Association.” He said with a small smile. “All the money I make with this guitar goes to them.”

 

Suddenly, an arm looped itself around his shoulders and there was a head pressed against the side of his:

 

“Stop flirting with those beauties, you promised me a date.” A husky voice said, the distinct way his owner couldn’t pronounce the ‘s’ sounds making him recognized from the first syllable. 

 

The three girls blushed when Sehun winked at them as he pulled Chanyeol along with him, the guitarist barely able to wave them goodbye before he was led out of the bar and into the brightly lit evening streets of  _ Itaewon _ , his guitar case bouncing on his back. 

 

“Let’s go to the park.” Sehun said, still holding Chanyeol’s hand, threading their fingers together. Chanyeol hummed, enjoying the warmth that was oozing from his friend’s hand. He pulled at his scarf a bit more, hiding his mouth in it before a greasy cough took the best of him, rasping against his throat. 

 

When it stopped, he didn’t miss the judging look Sehun was giving him.

 

“This is some ugly coughing.” He pointed out, but Chanyeol just shrugged, unlinking their hands so he could bury his in his pockets. “You did great tonight by the way.” Sehun added as he tried to catch up to him. “The crowd loved you. I saw you got some good money too.” 

 

Chanyeol nodded. He was smiling under his scarf, but he didn't show it. “Where are we going?”

 

“I’ve got a baseball. Thought we could do some throws, it’s been a while.”

 

Chanyeol felt the way Sehun’s stare lingered on him, looking out for any kind of reaction, but he didn’t give him any. They walked in the cold night, sometimes bumping shoulders teasingly, making small conversation as they headed to  _ Yongsan Park _ . 

 

“Did you know that Hyeok Kwon made it to the  _ Doosan Bears _ team? He was scouted by the  _ KBO _ so he’s playing for Seoul.” Sehun glanced towards Chanyeol as he announced it. He had some reserves about doing so, but he thought that Chanyeol had the right to know.

 

Being scouted by the Korean Baseball organisation was the dream of every high schooler playing on a baseball team. Chanyeol and Sehun had been part of those, playing for their high schools and training restlessly for the National Competitions which were held each year against other high schools. It was during those that major baseball organisations such as  _ KBO _ ,  _ MLB _ or  _ NPB _ would scout some of the outstanding players so that they would train and perhaps play on some of the biggest teams. 

 

Some had grazed that dream, getting a sweet taste of it that didn’t last long enough on their tongues for it to be remembered or even written in history. 

 

Now Sehun was playing for his university’s team, hoping that one day he could maybe become a coach. Chanyeol had strayed away from baseball, leaving behind dreams and a past of himself that he never really took the time to look at. It was a topic Sehun never really knew how to bring up, but he missed that side of his friend, the one with stars in his eyes which spelled out constellations of dreams. 

 

“Schnitzel.” Chanyeol blinked after some seconds of silence in which he had seemed dumbfounded. “That’s… That’s great. Are you guys still in touch?”

 

“He’s busy with his training, but we hang out once or twice a month.”

 

They arrived at the park, walking on the grass to find a secluded place where no one would bother them. Chanyeol put down his guitar case cautiously on the grass before he rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them up at least a bit so catching the ball wouldn’t hurt too much. Of course they didn’t have baseball gloves with them, but they would just do some chill catches and throws, just for the sake of old times. 

 

“How much did you earn tonight?” Sehun inquired as he threw the ball first, gently. Chanyeol caught it without problems. 

 

“I didn't count, but there were some pretty nice bills in the lot.” Chanyeol threw the ball. His fingers were a bit rigid from the cold and numb – he could see how bright red they were. It was probably time to get the gloves out of their drawers. “How is the baseball going by the way?”

 

Sehun told him about the team, how they had a match coming up soon against Korea University and how he was thrilled to have been selected as one of the pitchers, for he was usually just a bench-warmer since his teammates were quite good. The ball went back and forth, and at some point Chanyeol just couldn't let go of the feeling that something wasn't quite right. His hands should have been warmed up by then. However, the grip of his right palm was getting more and more numb and weak, to the point that he could barely feel the ball as he was catching it and his throws were getting more and more sloppy. 

 

Suddenly, he saw the ball being thrown at him flying right to his hand at top speed, hammering into his hand which was unresponsive. The ball hit straight into his palm, twisting his middle finger backwards, before falling flat on the grass behind him and rolling a bit pathetically, bumping weakly on his fake foot. He stared at it, too dumbfounded. It should have hurt. Sehun had thrown the ball hard onto his fingers, yet he hadn't felt anything. At all.

 

“Dude, are you alright?” Sehun jogged to his side, picking up the ball. 

 

But no reply came. Chanyeol just stared blankly at his hand, thumb running over the palm and the supposedly bruised middle finger. Nothing could be felt. Nothing. Nothing.

Yet everything was wrong.

  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  


There was a sort of restless humming in the room and Baekhyun could feel it in his bones, like a ceaseless tremor in his marrow and a grip on his lungs that would release shaky puffs of air – not enough for Baekhyun to feel serene. 

 

His fingers were twiddling with the thread of his hoodie while his other hand was holding his wounded wrist. He had taken extra precautions the past few days to make sure that it wouldn’t hurt too much during the competition and so the injury wouldn’t get worse, but there was a limit to what could be done considering all the practice he had been going through that hadn’t left time for his wrist to rest. 

 

He could feel something churning in his stomach, a growl trying to be heard, like someone was twisting his guts. He leaned against the wall, holding the thermos with the dabbing unicorn on it. He uncapped it, the strong smell of cinnamon barely making him feel better. There was the bitter taste of nausea creeping in his throat. He gulped down some of the  _ sujeonggwa _ . It was cold and made him shiver a bit, some droplets escaping from his lips and trickling down his chin. He was wiping it with the back of his hand when he heard the voice he wished the least to hear at that precise moment.

 

“I hope you went to the toilets already.” Daehyun had an arrogant smirk on his lips, but his sinister dark gaze was proof that the devil had taken hold of his soul. Baekhyun wanted to spit his tea at his disgustingly attractive face, but the beverage was too good to be used for that. Daehyun didn’t deserve such a great cinnamon punch to be wasted on him. “The competition is about to start; I wouldn’t want you to shit yourself out there – the biggest sponsors are going to be sitting in the stadium. You already made a great fool of yourself last time, but now we’re a team so don’t screw shit up like you always do.”

 

Baekhyun acted as if Daehyun wasn’t there, but his fist was itching to collide with the guy’s face. Instead, he let his fingers curl around the thermos, trying to focus on his breathing and on ignoring the twisting pain in his stomach. But it was too hard. Feeling Daehyun’s mocking stare on him was just making it worse. The branches were closing around his lungs and rooting themselves in his stomach, as if trying to rip out his intestines. From the corner of his eyes he saw Daehyun walking away, saying something about how it would begin soon, but Baekhyun had a hard time processing it. He was barely holding back from running to the toilets, legs shaky and body set on fire, when suddenly there was a new pressure on his ears, a strange but soothing piece of music gently filtered in through them. It was a weird succession of guitar notes, like the guitarist was plucking on random strings, but Baekhyun found that his heartbeat weirdly synchronized itself to the beat, and soon the air came back in his lungs just as it should, progressively, his body temperature switching back to normal and the pain in his guts comparable to only a soft tension that was slowly easing too. 

 

Chanyeol was there in front of him, grinning proudly while he was still holding the headphones pressed against Baekhyun’s ears. 

 

“I proudly present you my newest composition. I humbly call it  _ The Cat’s Staccato.  _ Punny name, ain’t it?” He winked, but Baekhyun just gave him a dead stare.

 

“The heck, this sounds weird. Like a duck dying.” He said in a deadpan, completely and painstakingly serious – Chanyeol felt the arrow pierce through his heart. 

 

“Schnitzel, that hurt.” He pouted, clutching his heart. “You know nothing about music, you barbarian.” He snatched the headphones away from Baekhyun, sulking. 

 

“No but I’m serious!” Baekhyun set his hand on Chanyeol’s arm, trying to give him a consoling pat despite his harsh words.

 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Chanyeol’s voice became dramatically high-pitched, sounding oddly like Jongdae’s pterodactyl screech, making Baekhyun snort. “See, you’re laughing at me.” He childishly retorted. “And there I thought that when I’d let you hear it first you’d would feel privileged as hell. Damned spoiled archer, doesn’t have any sense of artistry.” Chanyeol tried to make a dramatic exit by spinning himself and going through the door but it seemed as though something in his calculations didn’t exactly go right. He hadn’t noticed that the bin was beside the doorway and  toppled into it with a pathetic yelp. 

 

Baekhyun just lost it. Dropping the thermos, he clutched onto his stomach, laughing so hard his stomach muscles were hurting.

 

“Mirabelle!” Chanyeol wailed in despair as he threw himself onto the fallen thermos. “Goodness gracious, you have a bump!” He held the thermos high, inspecting it under the light shining from the window, and indeed there was a bump. 

 

Chanyeol’s heartbroken grimace was just the most epic and inhuman moue Baekhyun had ever witnessed. His laugher doubled and he could barely stand up from how much he was laughing. There were tears pearling at the corners of his eyes.

 

“Why are you laughing, you monster!” Chanyeol shrieked. “You’ve wounded Mirabelle-the-Great!” He said with an accusatory finger pointed at a breathless Baekhyun who slid down to the floor, about to piss himself. 

 

“Who the heck calls their Thermos _ ‘Mirabelle’ _ ?” Baekhyun hiccuped. 

 

Chanyeol glared at him, cradling the Thermos against his chest protectively. “I do.” He spat in a faked huff. “Don’t listen to him baby,” He caressed the bottle, “he’s just jealous of your swag.”

 

Baekhyun had stopped laughing and he was trying to catch back his breath, head leaned back against the wall and his lips unable to stop smiling. He closed his eyes, relishing in the comfortable feeling that was filling his body. The pain was gone. Everything. His body was buzzing, but not from anxiety. It was with renewed energy and some sparkle of delight that made him feel invincible. He could breathe now, and he felt so, so, so light.

 

_ “Thanks, Chanyeol.” _

 

It had been barely a whisper, and when Chanyeol’s eyes glanced to Baekhyun, the boy was sitting on the floor with his eyes closed, as if meditating, but his lips were stretched so beautifully to the corners of his cheeks and his face was radiant, joy glowing on his features – he seemed so happy and serene, like nothing in the world could reach out to him and hurt him. 

 

_ Just like an angel at peace. _

 

Chanyeol couldn’t help the fluttering feeling in his chest. He smiled too. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Outside, the sky was clear and blue, no clouds shrouding the sun from its heat, yet it was chilly. The metallic chairs oozed coldness and had Chanyeol shiver. He rubbed his hands together in hope of warming them up a bit.

 

“That’s a very subtle message your bandage has there.” Jongdae snickered as he appeared out of nowhere and plopped down on the seat next to Chanyeol, giving a sceptical look at said bandage. 

 

It was a gauze bandage wrapped around his middle finger, tied in a small little knot around his wrist. The middle finger was unavoidably hanging straight, unable to be bent and proudly giving a “fuck you” to anyone who would have the chance to notice it. Jongdae almost rolled his eyes when he saw that Chanyeol had actually doodled a blushing smiley face on the tip of the bandage - but then again, that was to be expected from him. 

“His name is Thumby.” He happily wiggled his middle finger in the air, as an old lady behind him gave them an outraged look. “I know he’s not a thumb but he’s cute and Thumby is a cute name.”

 

Jongdae just ignored his friend’s antics, instead turning to look at the field where the two teams were slowly gathering. Baekhyun was there too, mist coming out of his lips as he was holding his bow, talking animatedly with Wonwoo and Daehyun. 

 

“It’s so cold.” Chanyeol complained, still shivering as he was now rubbing his palms against his jeans. “Are they seriously going to shoot in the cold with their bare hands?” 

 

“We train in every condition. Coach Choi would make us hold ice cubes for minutes before starting shooting practice sometimes, just to have your hands accustomed to shoot even if your fingers get numb from the cold. This is nothing.” Jongdae explained, not without some little pride. 

 

Chanyeol was staring at him with wide eyes, reaching a whole new level of admiration as his gaze went to look at Baekhyun again. 

 

They were playing against Kyunghee University. It was a team match, three against three. Since it was an indoor match, they had to shoot from 70 meters, one arrow each, twice. The team who would score the most points would get one set point, and this would go on until one team would reach 6 set points. 

 

To be honest, he didn’t know so much about the rules of competitive archery, but he had done some research of his own on nights when he couldn’t fall asleep.

 

There were more people than Chanyeol had expected. All the seats were almost all occupied and although there weren’t so many seats to begin with, it was a big fight for a sport like archery which wasn’t so popular in South Korea outside of the Olympic Games season. 

 

“That’s a lot of sponsors.” Jongdae said, gazing behind Chanyeol. 

 

Chanyeol looked to where he was staring and indeed, there was at least a full row of men and women wearing expensive clothes which made them sit rigidly.  Several advertising banners with some of the biggest names like  _ Hyundai, KIA, Fils  _ and so on fluttered softly from the autumn wind. 

 

“This competition is very important for Baekhyun.” Jongdae explained, his index pressed on his cupid’s bow and his eyes sharp, as if he was analyzing something. “There are many important people. If he does well, this would basically be a springboard for him to get to the World Championships that are taking place next February.”

 

Chanyeol was speechless. His fingers curled around his seat and scratched on the metal as the weight of the seriousness of the situation finally dawned upon him. This was  _ so _ important to Baekhyun. 

 

And it explained why he had been so stubborn despite his injury. 

 

The guilt settled itself deeper in Chanyeol's stomach. 

 

“I've known Baekhyun since grade school, and even back then his only dream was to become a great archer and to compete at the Olympics one day.”

 

Their conversation was abruptly stopped when the commentator’s voice crackled through the speaker and the opponent’s team members started entering the field, dressed in brown and holding their bows, all with the same caps which had the Kyunghee University logo sewn on it. The commentator introduced their names, one part of the crowd cheering for them. Chanyeol could barely stay still on his seat, tension building up in his system as he waited for their University’s team to come. 

 

Then, the crowd on his side started to cheer and he saw him. Baekhyun was walking in front, as the captain, his teammates following suit behind, each holding their bows. He was walking with his back straight, head held high and his stance oozing with confidence. The sun seemed to be reflected on his white form-hugging attire, giving him the appearance of an angel. He pulled up his cap, brushing his bangs behind and setting it back on so that no hair would get in his eyes, and that sole movement did a little something to Chanyeol's heart. Baekhyun's gaze was piercing, like a tactical hunter bound to own land, he seemed ready to conquer. The archer bowed his head when his name was introduced by the commentator, Chanyeol gulped. 

 

“Ah, the Fearless Moonbeam is back.” Jongdae sighed in appreciation, his two fists curled with fighting spirit. He seemed pumped up, and so was Chanyeol who was sitting at the edge of his seat, tension pushing to the tips of his fingers and toes – he was torn between jubilance and anguish. 

 

Fearless Moonbeam. It was the nickname Baekhyun was known by on campus – the blinding light that feared nothing and grasped trophies faster than his own shadow, confidence never wavering. 

 

When the commentator announced the Hongik University was the first to start, Baekhyun went to step on the line and deployed his bow, drawing on his string. 

 

His whole stance was alluring, the curves along his back and the contours of his biceps, his fit body angled precisely toward the target and his chin held high with radiating courage, the string pressed against his lips and his focused gaze dark, so dark and bewitching. Chanyeol was left breathless. 

 

_ Fearless Moonbeam _ , it suited him just perfectly.

 

He let go of the string. Chanyeol held his breath. 

 

“Nine points.” The commentator said. Wonwoo then followed. 

 

He was the tallest of the three, though his stance wasn’t as powerful as Baekhyun’s. He looked sharp and imposing, but his movements were soft and smooth. Just like a cuddly bear, you would discover he’s cute under his tough surface. He drew on his bow – Chanyeol noticed how he didn't have the same technique as Baekhyun – he would fit his drawing hand just under his jaw, his string wouldn't press against his lips like it did for Baekhyun. And when he let go of the string, his fingers stayed a bit stiff and curled, they didn't have the same grace as Baekhyun did, how dainty and gracile they looked when he would free the string, the delightful curve they would draw as they would keep still in the air as Baekhyun watched the arrow go. 

 

“Eight points.”

 

Jongdae looked so focused beside him, his fist pressed thoughtfully against his lips as his eyes gawked at the scene unfolding. 

Daehyun was the next to go up. He held his bow with confidence, but his stance didn't have the same aura as Baekhyun's. His confidence was more affirmed, almost in a way that Chanyeol found pedantic. He was a bit too arrogant, too sure of himself, oozing with chill and assurance that had Chanyeol a bit uncomfortable.

He shot. 

 

“Nine points.”

 

The three made a total of 26 points. 

 

“This is great.” Chanyeol said, feeling pumped up. 

 

Jongdae beside him seemed less enthusiastic. 

 

“The other team is really great, they shouldn't leave our uni any space to hope.” He said, face turning stone cold. “Last year we won by a single point, and do you see this guy?” He pointed at the one from Kyunghee University who was getting ready to shoot. “That's Lee Taeyong, he's a little prodigy too.” Jongdae’s index was racing the shape of his lower lip. Chanyeol's eyes were set on the guy. 

 

His stance was nice – there was a certain distinction in the way he held himself. Chanyeol thought he looked just like those princes seen in olden paintings, their nobility shining even in the way they held their bows on the battlefield. He let go of the string and Chanyeol dug his nails in his palms. 

 

“Shit.”

 

“Ten points!” The commentator shouted. Lee Taeyong went to high-five his teammates, the next one then going into position too. 

 

He was short and his movements were quiet sharp, he shot quickly too, Chanyeol barely had the time to blink that the commentator announced the score:

 

“Nine points.”

 

Chanyeol was fidgeting on his seat. A cold breeze blew and he shivered, pulling his zipper up to his chin, burying his chapping lips into the warmth. Jongdae had closed his eyes and started to utter prayers Chanyeol couldn’t hear, he had linked his fingers together as he was leaning forward, elbows pressed on his thighs. 

 

The third opponent walked to the shooting line, Chanyeol was chewing on his thumbnail, rocking his body back and forth to keep himself warmer from the frigid weather. 

 

The guy drew on his bow, and Chanyeol held his breath. 

 

“Eight points.” 

 

“Shit.” Jongdae punched his own thigh, and Chanyeol could feel his heart hammering a bit harder. 

 

Baekhyun was about to walk back on the line to shoot when he was stopped by Daehyun who grabbed him by the arm.

 

“The hell is this dude doing?!” Jongdae almost sprang from his seat but he contained himself, stomping his foot in annoyance. 

 

And then, Daehyun was the one walking to the line, Baekhyun staying back, his fist curled around his bow. 

 

“What's happening?” Chanyeol looked over to his friend, completely lost and a bit alarmed. 

 

“I guess they decided to change their order.” Jongdae whispered between his teeth. 

 

“Can they do that?” 

 

“You're not supposed to but it’s fine here. I'm not sure Baekhyun appreciates it though, he's less consistent when shooting last – there's more pressure.” Jongdae explained, sounding pissed. “I just don't understand why Coach Choi insisted on pairing them up. Although they are our two best archers, they can't stand each other.” He sighed, sounding so frustrated. “They really don't work well together. And Daehyun knows Baekhyun hates shooting last. That son of a radish. He probably doesn't want Baekhyun to do well so he could outshine him in front of the sponsors. He gives no shits about winning this. He's just a selfish bastard.”

 

Chanyeol chewed his lower lip, which spread a metallic tang through his tongue. His fingers dug into his thighs, not caring about his whole body feeling numb from the cold. He just couldn’t understand it. Archery was played as both an individual sport and a team, but it was for their own name each archer was fighting for in the end, since the teams depend on the selection and would change regularly every time someone better popped up. It was unfair to Baekhyun – Chanyeol wondered why he hadn't refused Daehyun’s proposition. Maybe he didn't want to make a scene in front of the sponsors, or maybe he had an idea – Chanyeol couldn’t read Baekhyun’s eyes covered by the white cap. 

 

Baekhyun was standing behind, his back facing him, he looked like a ruler watching his forces battle, carrying the weight of destiny and possible defeat on his shoulders, yet standing still and strong and never looking away. 

Chanyeol wished he could do something to help him. 

 

Daehyun shot. 

 

“Nine points!”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The competition had lasted for a good half hour now, the scores very tight. Both teams had each won five sets –the team that won the final match, starting in a few moments, would win the tournament. 

 

Chanyeol was jittery with apprehension, barely able to stay seated. He felt like running and maybe screaming his stress out to the point of ripping his throat apart. The Kyunghee team had 27 points while Baekhyun's was at 18. Only a bull's eye would save them – ten points. 

 

Baekhyun was the last shooter. With his back straight and his chin held up, he walked to the line. Chanyeol was tapping his foot on the floor restlessly, and Jongdae’s hand which was gripping at his thigh was bouncing on the shaking limb. but his nails were well set in Chanyeol's flesh, yet the latter couldn't care less if he lost another leg in the battle – he felt like he was going insane from the pressure. 

 

Baekhyun positioned his feet at each side of the line, and with that same semi-circular movement he was so used to achieving, he held up his bow and drew on his string, kissing it. 

 

Chanyeol's foot was making loud echoes against the metallic platform, but no one was able to tell him anything despite how irritating it was – everyone was so on edge, waiting for that final arrow to finally be shot. 

His blood was barely flowing anymore, his whole body was cold, but his veins were burning and he felt as if his body was on fire. 

 

“Come on, Fearless Moonbeam, come on.” He chanted between gritted teeth. Jongdae's nails were tearing his thigh muscle apart. “ _ Come on, Hyun _ .”

 

The fingers let go off the string, the arrow propelling forward. Chanyeol could feel his legs shake from the trepidation. It was cold, but his body was a raging fire and he could feel his palms all sweaty, sliding against the edge of his seat he was clutching. He had never witnessed an archery match before, and he had never thought it would consume his soul and sanity like this. The feeling felt familiar, just like before, back in the days when he was the one on the field, dreaming of victories and success as he would pitch the ball and run like his life depended on it. It was the thrilling fire of passion and a tiny bit of competitiveness, the magic mix all sportsmen know of. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in so long. 

 

It felt so good. 

 

“Ten points!”

 

Chanyeol almost slid off his chair. 

 

“Fucking shit.” Jongdae punched him in the arm, hard, but he didn't even react. “Fucking shit, they did it. They did it, Yeol! It’s a fucking perfect bull’s eye! Holy fuck!”

 

Jongdae was hugging him tight, jumping on his seat and laughing ecstatically like a madman, but Chanyeol was still, expression blank. The whole crowd was cheering and clapping, the commentator praising the winners before his voice let place to some music. But it was all silent to Chanyeol, his mind ringing emptily. 

 

He couldn't react. He couldn't. Not when he was witnessing this. Baekhyun. Baekhyun was there, looking at him straight in the eye. He was looking at him with the proudest grin ever, a V sign held up, and his eyes smiling like fearless moonbeams with words silent but heartfelt. 

 

“ _ Thank you. _ ”

 

Chanyeol only had eyes for Baekhyun's joy. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He was still racing on the thrill of victory, drunk from happiness and pride. His body hurt from how much people had been embracing him, the team members playfully hitting him as congratulations. He had met with the official representative of  _ Fils  _ who had complimented him on their win too, saying that he would contact Baekhyun to further maintain their contract – new deals would come Baekhyun’s way, and the sponsorship seemed to be on the brink of blooming beautifully. 

 

The team exited the stadium – they were supposed to meet up later at the archery room since Coach Choi had said he had prepared a surprise. Baekhyun could feel his chest tighten from the exhilaration and joy – he felt like he was running on thin air, so light, flying. There was just one thing missing, but he felt as if that thing would come to him soon too. He glanced at his phone which started to vibrate, a smile on his lips.

  
  


**From : Unknown number**

_ Meet me up in the stadium _

  
  


The competition had taken place at the  _ Mokdong  _ Stadium, which although it was mainly a baseball stadium, had various accommodations such as a soccer field, an ice rink, fitness room as well as the shooting range and archery field, where the competition had taken place. The whole building was huge, like an enormous cement egg that had landed right in the middle of Seoul, and it took about 10 minutes for Baekhyun to get to the baseball stadium. It was empty of visitors at that hour, but some people were training on the field, a certain team – Baekhyun couldn’t see their name.

He had been here various times, for practice. The whole archery team would practice shooting while there would be a match – it was Coach Choi’s technique to train their focus, they had to be able to shoot despite the audience’s cheers. 

 

He quickly spotted Chanyeol who was seated in the terrace, legs plopped on the seat below as he was hugging a sort of bag to his chest, eyes focused on what was happening on the field. Baekhyun quietly walked up to him, studying him. There was something about Park Chanyeol, in the way his gaze was unfaltering and his untied, slightly curled hair danced around his solemn face, lips drawn in a pink, pale line, gaze hollow. It had Baekhyun shiver, a shiver felt in his marrow, that had nothing to do with the chilly air, but with the moroseness that was slipping out from Park Chanyeol’s body as he watched the baseball practice unfold.  

 

Park Chanyeol was usually never gloomy though, Baekhyun pressed his tongue against his palate, pensive. 

 

But it was like the cloud that had been looming around Chanyeol suddenly vanished as he noticed Baekhyun walking toward him, and he smiled brightly, straightening himself and patting on the seat next to him, as if nothing had happened. For a second, Baekhyun wondered if he hadn’t just imagined it all.  

 

“Look at this, Champs came to get his congratulations from me!” Chanyeol faked a wannabe-swag accent, and it had Baekhyun snort as he shook his head, sitting next to him. 

 

“Where’s my congratulatory gift?” He mimicked the most stuck-up accent he could manage, tilting his chin up and bringing a rigid and demanding hand in front of Chanyeol, waiting for something to be given to him. 

 

For some seconds, Chanyeol rummaged through his weird looking backpack – it was all misshapen like it had been beaten to a pulp, barely resembling a bag and more like a sort of deviant lump about to grow an eye or two – and then he finally pulled something out of it, setting a foiled roll in Baekhyun’s palm. 

 

“Congrats on winning, Champs!” He winked as Baekhyun stared warily at the phallic aluminium foil cylinder that had been disposed in his hands. “It’s edible, don’t worry.” Chanyeol rolled his eyes, and Baekhyun then proceeded to tear the foil after muttering a circumspect ‘thanks’. 

 

Soon, the smell of seaweed and sesame oil filled his nostrils and he revealed a slightly deformed and too-big  _ kimbap  _ roll. Chanyeol was grinning proudly at him, his face clearly saying ‘I made it for you’. 

 

Baekhyun took it with some reserve. The thing was heavy, probably twice as thick as a normal  _ kimbap  _ should be – he wasn’t even sure he could fit it in his mouth. But what made him so shy about the thing was just its overall shape. It  _ really  _ looked like a dick.

 

“Wow, it’s not chicken.” Baekhyun whistled as he examined the food. “Finally.” He sighed in contentment, leaning back on his seat and looking like someone who was relieved beyond belief. “At some point I thought I would turn into a chicken with all the chicken I’ve been eating lately.”

 

Chanyeol frowned at that, worrying cutely his lower lip between his teeth in faked childish annoyance, his nose slightly scrunched, which made him look more adorable than anything, really.

 

“There’s nothing better to eat than chicken when  celebrating.” He huffed in exaggerated displeasure before he started digging into his wannabe bag again, looking all worked up. He then pulled something out with a victorious beam, before he put his scowl back on again and slapped said thing into Baekhyun’s hand. The latter stared at what he had just been given. They were coupons for Big Cock. “Here, now you’ll be able to celebrate your victory with even more chicken.” Chanyeol grinned devilishly before making a sort of little satanic laugh and taking out one aluminium dick for himself too and tearing the foil apart. He took a big bite out of his  _ kimbap _ ; Baekhyun hadn’t been able to stop smiling all along. He buried the coupons in his pocket before taking a bite out of his own dick-shaped  _ kimbap.  _

 

However, the thing indeed didn’t fit in his mouth, and just,  _ its shape _ . He couldn’t help it, he snorted with his mouth full, almost accidentally spitting his food out. Chanyeol gave him a weird look.

 

“Does it taste funny?” He asked warily.

 

Baekhyun brushed his mouth with the back of his hand. “For a thick dick, it tastes better than I thought it would.”

 

Chanyeol’s eyes turned round, similar to the ones of a fried fish. 

 

“Did you just call my kimbap a dick?”

 

“A thick one, yes.” Baekhyun said very seriously, watching Chanyeol lose his composure. “But it’s fine, I like it. It’s the cutest  _ dickbap _ that has ever been made for me.” He smiled sweetly before he tried to take another bite of it, but he just couldn’t fit it in, and as he tried to squeeze it, some of its garniture began escaping from the other side. And now he had mayo on his lips too. “You might just have overestimated my swallowing capacities.” He said as he licked his lips, chuckling.

 

Chanyeol simply couldn’t look away from Baekhyun’s tongue, how small and pink it was as it gathered the mayo in a swift and slow-motion glide. The weather was getting hot.

 

“Here, take this one then.” He exchanged their kimbap, giving his thinner one to Baekhyun. 

 

The latter thanked him, and since Chanyeol was trying not to show how much this  _ dickbap _ ordeal had aroused him, he let his eyes trail back to the baseball field. Silence filled between them, just some comments slipped here or there about the practice game that was going on in front of them. Chanyeol had fetched his phone out of his pocket, putting on some feel-good music that had Baekhyun relaxing.

 

It felt nice. It was just the two of them, with nothing looming on their mind. No pressure, no stress, no expectations. They had little bottles of _Binggrae_ banana milk by their side, one of _Hyukoh_ ’s songs was playing on Chanyeol’s phone, and their asscheeks felt numb, completly frozen as they were pressed against the metallic seats. Baekhyun found himself enjoying how Chanyeol’s low and humming voice would cover the songs as he would make comments about the baseball game. He knew a lot about the sport and spoke very seriously about it too. His tone was warm and bittersweet – just like warm cocoa, and Baekhyun couldn’t get the image out of his head. He then had a remembrance about the trophies in Chanyeol’s room – he used to play baseball. It all made sense. It also made him realize that he didn’t know much about the lad.

 

His eyes unconsciously travelled to the guy sitting beside him. He had a nice profile, with his wild long curly hair hanging around his head like cotton candy. The dark fluffy locks looked just as soft as the confectionary,  _ and probably smelled just as sweet too _ , he mused to himself. 

 

He had a straight, tall nose, and Baekhyun noticed the little beauty mark on it and how his long lashes casted shadows on his soft cheekbones. His eyes, usually possessing such an aloof gaze, were dark and shimmering, looking slightly fierce as he focused on the match. His thumb was running over his lower lip languidly, probably unconsciously. Baekhyun noticed that Park Chanyeol’s lower lip was fuller than the upper one – they were pink and quite soft-looking, being chewed by the taller’s teeth like bubblegum. They turned into a grin at the action going on in the field. Baekhyun was amazed – it felt as if he was rediscovering Park Chanyeol. The first time they had talked was when the guy had collided into him with his bicycle. From there, all Baekhyun had grasped from the guy was that he was tall as a pole, intimidating. That he had no sense of decency, from the way he dressed – always carrying that ugly bright yellow raincoat – to his hideous bicycle; Park Chanyeol used to repulse him. But now that he was looking more closely at him, he figured out that no such negative feelings were left in him, and all he felt about the guy was gratefulness and maybe a bit of affection. Just a bit. Let’s say he was getting used to having him in the picture. 

 

Chanyeol brought his thick kimbap to his mouth again, and it was then that Baekhyun finally noticed something was wrong. A bandaged middle finger was proudly peeking up, a smudged smiley face with bleeding cheeks – he later noticed it was blushing – staring into his soul. Baekhyun almost spat his food out again. 

 

“The hell.” He clutched Chanyeol’s wrist to examine it, startling the guy who was eating just seconds ago. Baekhyun was so close to laughing at how ridiculous the finger looked – it was like a mummified sausage with a blushing face that looked weirdly like those hentai facial expressions – but his sense of friendship and humanity took the lead on him.

 

“What happened to you? Did you give Dumbo the finger?” This was as human as he could be in such a situation. Yes.

 

Chanyeol gave him a glare.

 

“First off, it’s Django. Like Django Reinhardt. You know, the guitarist?” He paused, clicking his tongue. “Of course you don’t know,” he said in a deadpan, “you have no sense of artistry, right.” Then he smiled softly, taking his hand away and poking Thumby’s face. “And yeah, it’s just a sprain, nothing much.” He shrugged. “How’s your wrist by the way?”

 

Baekhyun shrugged too.

 

“It takes more than Dumbo Reynolds to hurt me.”

 

Chanyeol slapped his thigh, and Baekhyun simply chortled. He took his bottle of banana milk, tearing the lid off. Cold wind blew in his hair as he drank, and he closed his eyes as Oh Hyuk’s low and distinctive voice sang about the body, the mind and the fear of being afraid.

 

It tasted good.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The music was louder that night at Big Cock Chicken, and cheers could be heard from the inside. It was night, and the air was even more crisp, like frostbites kissing his skin, but he made no move to go back inside of the restaurant. It was stuffed, and the archery team members were all being loud, most of them drunk after hours of feasting on fried chicken and beer. It was on Coach Choi tonight  – he wanted to congratulate the team’s effort by offering them dinner, and this was how they had ended up sitting in Ms. Park’s restaurant. But Baekhyun just felt like being on his own for a bit, away from all the noise and bright lights. He leaned against the wooden rail, looking at the street below. He could clearly see the damned bicycle, its colorful streamers fluttering in the wind, waving at him like Chanyeol would do with his exaggerated movements, and it made him chuckle. He waved back.

 

“Hey Dumbo.”

 

Suddenly, his phone vibrated in his pocket, startling him a bit. His chest automatically tightened when he saw the ID blinking on the screen.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Baekhyun,” His mother’s voice sounded even more chilly on the phone, if possible. He gripped the fence, feeling his nails dig in the humid and softened wood. “I heard your team won today, but it was a close call.” Her words were like needles piercing the small balloon of pride and happiness Baekhyun had hardly managed to blow for himself with his accomplishments from today.

 

Baekhyun sucked in a breath, closing his eyes, his hand around the bar trembling. 

 

“We won.” He highlighted.

 

“You were lucky.” His mother countered back, voice sharp, letting in no space to be contradicted. “You won by a single point, this isn’t a victory to be proud of. You did poorly. How do you expect to do good on greater competitions if you can’t even set a significant gap during measly university games?” 

 

Dropping his phone from the balcony sounded so tempting, Baekhyun thought as he stared at the pavement below, imagining the device crash to the ground and demolish into a thousand pieces. It was exhilarating, his vision. His mother’s voice would vanish in the air, and he would be able to float in the skies of happiness once more. 

But those were all mere fantasies.

 

“It’s because you kept slacking off. I knew getting this dog wasn’t a good idea but your  _ father  _ insisted.” She said the words ‘father’ like it was venom on her tongue. “It is only a distraction to you. We should get rid of the mongrel.”

 

Baekhyun’s blood froze in his veins, and he almost cursed at her. Instead, he felt his nails dig deeply into the moist wood and splinters getting under his nails, digging into his calloused fingers. He bit strongly on his lower lip to muffle a grunt, feeling something rusty on his tongue, slowly trickling down his his lips in a crimson stream.

 

“Don’t.” His voice wavered from the fear, becoming a shaky whisper. “ _ Don’t _ .”

 

“Baekhyun?”

 

He jumped, startled. Coach Choi as standing behind him, looking at him with questions and worry in his eyes.

 

“I need to go mom, Coach Choi is calling for me.” He blurted before hanging up on her without waiting for  reply. He would get scolded for this too, but he would worry about it later. 

 

“Is everything okay with your mother?” The coach asked, walking closer so he could lean on the bar too. Baekhyun nodded, licking the pearls of blood off his lip.

 

“She called to congratulate me, coach.” He said in a mute voice, no emotions to it, nothing. 

 

He was staring in front of him, to the cement wall that was erected, facing him like a menace, something that could crumble down at any moment and suffocate him. Achieve him. Break him. He saw Coach Choi nod gloomily beside him from the corner of his eyes. He felt a large hand disembarked on his shoulder, warm and heavy. But for some reason he didn’t feel like escaping from it no matter how usually daunting it was  – he needed a hand to hold him, or else he felt like he would just crumble to ash and never be reborn, just like the forgotten Phoenix. 

 

“You did well today, Byun Baekhyun.” The hand patted him slowly, and Baekhyun’s fingers once again dug into the wood, trembling as blood seeped into the timber. “Great things are awaiting for you now, but the first step is to always be proud of yourself.”

 

Baekhyun felt his lower lip quiver, so he just pressed them in a tight line. He didn’t dare to look at his coach in the eye. 

 

“You should enjoy yourself tonight. Tomorrow is another day and you’ll have all the time to lose yourself in your practice, but let go of your worries just for a while and come eat some chicken with us.” He smiled, and Baekhyun felt his eyes sting.

 

“Coach.” He cleared his throat, voice coming out more croaky than expected. “Do you really think I did good today?”

 

The coach looked at him for a moment, his hands still set on Baekhyun's shoulders while his eyes wore the thick veil of the words he wasn't uttering. They were sad, compassionate and fatherly. Coach Choi gripped him a bit tighter, shaking him gently. 

 

“You've done incredibly well today  – your stance was powerful and you didn't waver even once. Each of your shots just became better and better, and you crowned it with the most beautiful and theatrical bullseye I have seen in a long time. You had be on edge there, you show off.” The coach gently chuckled trying to ease Baekhyun, but he could see that his words, although the right ones, weren't coming from the right person. “Hey boy, listen.” Baekhyun looked up from his feet, surprised. Coach Choi very rarely called him by that tag. “I know you've got a lot on your plate. Being an athlete is exhausting, with the running and jumping and all that, but 80% of it is mental. People often forget it, but your mental health is the most important of all.” he sighed, shaking his head. “So if ever you feel the need to talk someone, you know I'm here, as your Coach, but also as a human. And if ever you would like to talk to someone else, then-”

 

“It's fine Coach,” he interrupted him, bowing his head in apology. “I'm fine, thank you.” He was about to walk back into the restaurant when a strong voice called him back. 

 

“Wait, you little ungrateful shenanigan.” Coach Choi’s voice was back to being boisterous and authoritarian, Baekhyun stilled. His eyes trailed to the elder man, and he noticed how he had his arms crossed over his chest.

 

“I did say that 80% is mental but I also implied that 20% is your physical shape! Your wrist is certainly in no condition to do archery at all. You didn't fool me with your long sleeves boy, I saw just how swollen and blue it is. You better get it checked before ever setting foot back into the archery room again. An athlete has to be responsible.” Coach Choi scolded him. 

 

“Now go back inside, eat lots of chicken and loosen up. You need to bulk up to get ready for the tremendous practice that is awaiting for you. You're going for the World Championship, boy!”

 

“Yes Coach!”

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

[ September song ](https://youtu.be/s7aOnRO1v9E) \- Django Reinhardt ×  [ Swinging with Django ](https://youtu.be/zWtrgCbaJrk) \- Django Reinhardt ×  [ The more I love ](https://youtu.be/wRbXnlc6Yvw) \- Boohwal ×  [ Shabang Shabang ](https://youtu.be/Kta0zl-G3lc) \- Park Hyun Bin ×  [ Don't worry, dear ](https://youtu.be/HugHs90w1M8) \- Lee Juck ×  [ Take On me ](https://youtu.be/djV11Xbc914) \- A-ha ×  [ Love my way ](https://youtu.be/LGD9i718kBU) \- The Psychedelic Furs

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_Second chapter._ **

  
  
  
  
  


_ \----------------- _

_ My dear, don’t worry about anything, let’s sing together _

_ Bury all the painful memories deep inside your heart _

_ All things past is in the past, they all have a meaning _

_ Sing to the one who left, say that you loved without regrets _

_ You went through so many difficult things, you lost that newness _

_ All of the hardships, brush them all off _

_ All things past is in the past, they all have a meaning _

_ Let’s all sing together _

_ Say that you dreamed without regrets _

_ Say that you will dream a new dream _

**-Don’t worry,** **_Lee Juck_ **

_ \----------------- _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The night was young and wild. The wafting smells of alcohol being poured in celebration and the scent of chicken filled the room so much that at some point someone had to open the restaurant’s windows just so they could have some fresh air. Some 80’s hits were bouncing off the speakers one by one on the stereo and Baekhyun felt a bit drunk himself although he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol. 

 

He was so tired, but everyone else seemed to be buzzing with energy. The team members were all gathered around one big table that had been made by bringing all the restaurant’s tables together - it was their special night today, Mrs. Lee had said. They were the only ones at  _ Big Cock Chicken _ , but the heat in the room was such that it felt like they were in a club. Baekhyun felt a bit overwhelmed and his instincts were screaming at him to just  _ run for it  _ and get some fresh air, but Coach Choi had been dutifully watching over him from the other side of the table, insisting that Baekhyun had to be the most pampered, since they were also celebrating him qualifying for the World Championships. 

 

“Damn, I could marry the chicken here.” Jongdae was more than tipsy at this point, his hand drawing some very heterosexually platonical circles on Baekhyun’s thigh as he sucked on his chicken bone, body completely leaning against Baekhyun. “Seulgi is so pretty tonight. She’s always so pretty.” He sighed, and indeed, his breath reeked of soju. He gave a prolonged lick to his drumstick all the while staring at the innocent girl who was chatting with Chanyeol next to the counter, both picking up the orders they had to serve. 

 

Baekhyun felt the hand snake up higher and since he knew how much Jongdae cherished his heterosexuality, he elbowed him in the ribs. His friend squeaked in displeasure but only curled up closer against Baekhyun. He understood it was a lost case when his best friend suddenly grabbed his thumb underneath the table and started sucking at it, closing his eyes and almost looking like a baby, fluffy lashes casting a shadow on his cheekbones. He was an angel that reeked of alcohol. Baekhyun stared at him in disgust, crying for his kidnapped thumb. 

 

“You guys seem close.” Seulgi chuckled as she picked up Jongdae’s plate, smiling down at the sleeping man with what Baekhyun would have described as fondness.

 

Jongdae definitely had a shot there, sad thing he was passed out drunk. 

 

“He’s been sucking at my thumb whenever he’s sleepy since grade school.” Baekhyun rolled his eyes, and Seulgi parted her lips in a ‘o’ shape.

 

“This explains why both of you seem so close.” She nodded to herself. 

 

Jongdae suddenly made a little cooing noise in his slumber, munching on the tip of Baekhyun’s thumb. 

 

“He likes to say we’re bros.” Baekhyun made an act of shrugging nonchalantly, gaze wandering in his surroundings. 

 

He really, really wasn’t comfortable at anything remotely social, and he could feel that he was making this more awkward than it should be, but then again, Jongdae was _sucking_ on _Baekhyun’s_ _thumb_ while passed out drunk in front of his crush. 

 

As he tried to avoid further discussion, his eyes happened to catch on Chanyeol carrying two empty chicken buckets. He was standing by Coach Choi and Mrs. Lee was there too, she was bringing some more chicken for the man. 

 

It wasn’t that Baekhyun was prying or anything, but their laughter was so loud that he just couldn’t help but tune in into their conversation. Coach Choi was joking about chicken and archery, saying something along the lines of how it felt like Chanyeol was a part of the team too, from how much he had been around lately, always feeding the team members chicken and all. Mama Lee laughed it off, her hand comfortably coming to Coach Choi’s shoulder. Then maybe  _ Big Cock Chicken _ should become the archery team’s sponsor, she joked too, and Coach Choi laughed along, patting Chanyeol on the forearm. 

 

The latter was smiling, sometimes sliding into the conversation. He seemed at ease there, conversing lightly. Baekhyun had seen it happen many times - it was like Chanyeol was a ray of sunshine. All smiles and no rain. It was like everywhere he went, things would brighten up, as if he was carrying happiness in that guitar suitcase of his, and singing joy when he played. Everyone on the team had warmed up to him, even Daehyun who was quite openly homophobic. 

 

Coach Choi was right, Baekhyun was realizing now, but it was like Chanyeol had indeed become part of the team. He was always there when they were practicing, bringing them chicken and watching over them from the bleachers, always supportive and always present to brighten the mood in the archery room. Chanyeol was just that kind of person - the kind that could get into all places and hearts with just a smile. 

 

Baekhyun was feeling the thorny vines take root back around his lungs, but this time they were uglier, more vicious. Even he was disgusted by their form but he just couldn’t help it, they were growing and growing endlessly, he couldn’t stop the bitter taste that was slowly overtaking his tongue, poisoning him.

 

Chanyeol was far away. Chanyeol was just like the sun - ever shining, so bright. Everyone saw him and everyone loved him and admired him. He was something, a persona Baekhyun was aiming for, but which he just couldn’t reach no matter how fast he ran, no matter how hard he tried to extend his hand. Chanyeol was joy and peace. He was always smiling, making it seem like there was never a worry shading him. He made it seem like life was easy, like he never had it hard. And it was something Baekhyun found himself being envious of. He wanted to be just like Chanyeol, to be carefree, to be happy no matter the situation, but it felt as if life kept pulling him down, and every time he felt as if he was resurfacing from the demonic waters that were trying to drown him, like he was finally reaching for oxygen, life would just push him back into the abysses. He had tried to fight, he had tried to be like Chanyeol, but there was always that voice reminding him of how worthless he was. Of how big of a failure he was. And just like this, the Sun he had been admiring all his life had been covered by the electric and sinistrous azur waves that were drowning him. But then Chanyeol arrived, like the Sun plunging - ploughing - into the sea that was his prison, and made him feel like there was hope again. Hope was a scary thing, for it made you soar up, but could also let go of your hand on the way and make you fall hard. But he didn’t want to let go of his hand. No matter how ugly he found his feelings - his envy and his hidden jealousy - he wanted to keep holding that hand and hope that he would be shining too.

 

He had to try better.  

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The heat of the celebration dropped down after everyone had left the restaurant. A chilly breeze was filtering from the open door, making Chanyeol shiver on his stool. He dug his nails a bit more in the leather of the seat, suppressing a tremble by flexing his muscles. 

 

“I can do it by myself you know, Seul.” He sighed, kicking his stump playfully in the girl’s arm. She just looked up, giving him a threatening glare which was enough for him to seal his lips. 

 

She was kneeling in front of him, spreading disinfectant on the blisters that had burst on his stump. The skin was red and it was getting dry in some places, starting to peel and crack a bit. The whole day had been hard, he had been putting on more socks than ever to make sure that his prosthesis was rightly set, yet it hadn’t helped enough it seemed since doing so was just making him too hot and sweat more, which was the reason why he had gotten so many blisters on his stump. It was so uncomfortable to walk with, but he had no other choice.

 

“You should have gone with your crutches to the game, stubborn boy.” His mother nagged him as she brought him said crutches. 

 

Chanyeol just grinned at her before pressing a quick kiss on her cheek. She was trying to appear annoyed by his stubbornness but he could see that she was worried. The eyes of a mother could never lie to their children. 

 

“Was it because you didn’t want the archery members to see?”

 

Of course she would know. Mothers always knew. Chanyeol felt his cheeks heat up and he just shrugged. He wanted to smile it off but suddenly, phlegm got stuck in his throat, cutting off his air supply. He tried to swallow it back so he wouldn’t cough in front of his mother and alarm her, but it just didn’t work and he ended up choking, coughing his lungs out. Phlegm ended up on his palm and he stared at it in shock, unmoving. Suddenly, someone grabbed his hand and there was a tissue being brushed against his palm, cleaning it. They were slightly wrinkled hands, so soft, so warm and gentle, yet trembling in worry. 

 

“Stupid, stupid child of mine.” Mrs. Lee wanted to hold the hand gently, but she was gripping it instead. Chanyeol didn’t dare to look up. He knew she was trying not to cry. “You are beautiful, my Chanyeol. Please, don’t think otherwise.”

 

Arms came around him and he was engulfed into a suffocating hug. The embrace held so much words and he felt Seulgi pressing her forehead against his leg, giving her own little bear hug. He dug his teeth into his lower lip, trying so, so hard to not waver. To keep smiling despite everything. 

  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  


“You should have come sooner Baekhyun.” The voice was cold and reprimanding, but he knew that was what he deserved. “You are a professional athlete, you should know how important your health is to you.” The doctor reminded him. 

 

His glasses seemed so small on his wrinkled face, and his annoyed grimace was just adding more to his apparent age. Baekhyun kept his head bowed low in apology. 

 

“Thankfully nothing was broken, but now you should definitely rest your wrist. I don’t want you touching a bow for ten days. And keep the splint on. I’ll also prescribe you anti-inflammatories and sessions with a kinesitherapist.” 

 

Baekhyun worried his lower lip between his teeth, wondering just how he would do ten days without practice. He had just qualified for the World Championships, slacking off wasn’t an option. He couldn’t slack off. 

 

“I need to practice.” He breathed, his thumb running over his wrist.

 

He saw the doctor curl his hand into a fist, before he set his hand flat against the desk again, fingers trembling the slightest. 

 

“You’ve had chronic tendonitis for years now, Baekhyun.” He sighed, taking his glasses of and pinching the the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but I think you need to be conscious of what is at stake.” He put his glasses back on, blinking. “You shouldn’t be treating this lightly. If this keeps on, surgery will become your last option, and then I can’t guarantee that you could go back to archery at a professional level.”

 

It was like air had been sucked out of Baekhyun’s lungs, like a punch into his guts. His hands started fidgeting so he curled them into fists, pressing them against his thighs. 

 

“You’re still not at this stage, but it is something you should be aware of. You’re still young, and young people tend to think they are inexhaustible, but it isn’t true. You only have one body, and you should take care of it.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He hated hospitals. It’s not like many liked hospitals anyway, he thought, but to Baekhyun they just reeked of sickness and sadness - and maybe a bit of disinfectant too. Everything was always too white and crisp clean, it made him feel on the edge. 

 

With his thumbnail scratching absentmindedly on the velcro fastener of his splint, he walked in the long corridors, aiming for the exit. But as soon as he turned left, he was surprised to see Chanyeol coming out of a room, shaking hands with a doctor.

 

It took some seconds for Chanyeol to notice him, but when he did, he smiled brightly, walking up to him - limping a bit, Baekhyun noticed. 

 

“Heyo.” Chanyeol gave him a V sign in greeting, Baekhyun giving a small nod. “Have you finally come to get your wrist checked?” He asked as he eyed Baekhyun’s splint. The archer was holding his wrist against his chest protectively, still shaken by the words that the doctor had uttered to him. 

 

Baekhyun gave him no response and Chanyeol tilted his head in concern. There was something in his eyes, like a thread so thin it was moments away from snapping - and if it did, Baekhyun would crumble like a puppet with no strings. He just seemed so  _ vulnerable _ .

 

A sense of worry filled Chanyeol. “Hey, let’s get out of this hellhole.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Baekhyun had doubted Chanyeol’s intentions for a moment when they walked further inside the building instead of guiding him to the exit, going up some old staircase and pushing open a door that creaked noisily as if it hadn’t been opened in years, covered in the same white wallpaper in an attempt to conceal it. Cold air embraced their bodies and crawled under their coats, making them both shiver as they stepped outside. Baekhyun opened his mouth to complain about the cold until he saw the scenery and lost his words. 

 

They were on the hospital’s roof where an old wooden bunk bed painted with white paint chipping off was set by the security railings. It was small, of children size, cute penguin and star shaped tinsel adorning the box springs. On the ground an old, washed-out carpet that was probably once green with a train and a hopscotch board dyed into the fabric, but now not much could be seen of it, yet it was nice. There was also a swing seat just beside and Chanyeol went to plop down on it, bringing his weird shaped backpack to his lap and patting the place beside him. 

 

Baekhyun shyly went to sit, the thing swaying a bit as he did. He brought his hands to his lap, staring at the scenery in front of him. 

 

Seoul in its entirety seemed like it could be seen, so vast yet so small amid the mounts that erected from the soils and made her a prisoner of nature. Mellow amber light filled the sky as the sun slowly dipped low behind the mountains that circled the building. He could see the Han river glistening as sun rays bathed into its waters, light reflected on the buildings, making them seem like the were on fire. The mountains seemed so big like this, the light glowing behind them making them look dark and imposing, like giants standing in a wall around the city, watching over its inhabitants. It brought some kind of comforting feeling to Baekhyun, as if he was  aware that he was being watched over by the mountains, and that nothing bad would ever happen to him.

 

“Here, take this.” A bottle of banana milk was pushed into Baekhyun’s hands. Chanyeol had his own, giving him a small smile. “You seem a bit down, banana milk is always the answer to anything.” He grinned before tearing off the foil lid on his own bottle. 

 

Baekhyun gave him a small smile of his own, shaking his head before he proceeded to do the same as Chanyeol. The milk was a bit cold on his lips but it felt nice, so sweet. It made Baekhyun feel like a little kid again, not having to give a care in the world. 

 

His eyes trailed on the bunk bed which was standing just beside them. The wood seemed to have sucked so much rainwater, having lead a long life outside the confines of the hospital. Its color -  once appearing to be white - had turned a bit dull and greenish, there was some moss growing on it too. He wanted to dig his thumbnail into it and feel how soft the wood had turned within the years it was unattended to, but it was too cold and he didn’t dare expose his hands too much - he was trying to stay warm. 

 

The place was odd, it looked abandoned on first glance, like a little abode forgotten on a hospital roof, but with further inspection, traces of life could be seen in the details, like there were small brown fingerprints on the ladder of the bed, looking oddly like the fingers had been dipped in chocolate before touching the wooden surface. There were little scribbles too, some more faded than others, the rain and the snow certainly not letting them rest through the years. On one, he simply managed to read a name. Something like ‘Solbin’. But he wasn't sure. 

 

“I always used to come here when things would get hard.” Chanyeol hummed after sipping the rest of the banana milk. When Baekhyun looked over to him, he saw that the man was staring at the carpet, his fingers peeling absentmindedly the bottle’s label off. 

 

Baekhyun said nothing, but he wondered just how often Chanyeol had went to the hospital as a kid so he could say this. He didn’t pay it much mind though, it was probably another joke of his to try and cheer him up. 

 

Like instinct, his hand kept twitching to go up to his splint, fingers twiddling the velcro. It was a little scratchy sound that filled the silence. Honking cars could be heard too, but Baekhyun let himself be bathed by the sunrays as they slowly turned orange. 

 

He would have to announce to his mother that he would be unable to practice for ten days. The sole thought of it made him breathless, the suffocating pain growing back in his chest. 

 

Chanyeol had been staring at his feet for a few minutes now. The cold was properly biting his exposed flesh, but he didn’t mind. His eyes travelled to Baekhyun and lost themselves into the masterpiece of the boy’s features, counting the stars of the beautiful galaxy which was Byun Baekhyun. Light was shining upon his face, golden hues kissing his skin and etching the straight line of his button nose, chin and jaw like a painting, highlighting his angelic contours and shining on his chocolate brown locks which threw soft shades over his dark eyes. His lips were worried between his teeth, and his shoulders were tense. Chanyeol wanted to crawl closer to him - feel their arms touch, maybe touch his hands and ask him what was on his mind. 

 

But Baekhyun’s lips moved on their own before that could happen :

 

“Do you know how it feels to have a dream?” He asked lightly, like one would ponder if it would rain today. 

 

He was still facing the sun and the mountains. Chanyeol watched him, watched the way the boy’s  index came to caress his lower lip, and how they contorted very slightly into a pout, his gaze narrowing as he seemed to be thinking harder. 

 

“I find it both so comforting, but also so,  _ so _ frightening.” Baekhyun replied to himself, and the last word seemed to be hanging in the air. 

 

The breeze blew harder and Chanyeol shivered, burying his palms between his thighs. He crawled a bit closer to Baekhyun, seeking for some warmth. 

 

“A dream is something that drives you, that gives you something to live for, what you’re the most certain about in life.” Baekhyun extended his hand in front of him, light seeping through his fingers in a magical way, so strong his skin seemed to be glowing red and Chanyeol thought he could see the light shining through it. 

 

“But dreams are also something so fragile, you could so easily fall and watch your dream just slip from your fingers and all you would be left with are haunting regrets. Wondering what it could have been.” His hand curled into a fist, and then fell on his lap. Just beside his splint. 

 

Chanyeol licked his lips, eyes never leaving Baekhyun’s face. “I do know a bit of that.” He hummed.

 

Baekhyun turned to look him in the eyes. Their knees brushed together - neither made the move to part. His soul was dark in his pupils, but he seemed to be clinging to Chanyeol’s words, as if hoping to be saved by what could potentially be his lifeline or his downfall. It was so scary, he had to be careful with each word. 

 

Chanyeol cleared his throat, but his voice then still came out a bit husky, almost like a whisper. “But I also know that once you wake up from one dream, it doesn’t mean your heart can’t dream again for yourself so you would have something new to live for.” 

 

Baekhyun had seemed to be absorbing his every word, body unconsciously leaning closer and closer in, but then it was like the charm broke, and the thread in his eyes snapped. He turned towards the sun again, the saliva on his lips which he had previously moistened shimmering a bit under the golden rays. Their hands were so close, their pinkies touching. But Chanyeol didn’t make a move to take it, Baekhyun stood up before he even thought of intertwining their digits.

 

“Maybe you have many dreams. I only have archery. That’s what makes us different.”

 

And he left. Half emptied bottle of banana milk resting on the swinging seat beside Chanyeol, a sole reminder that for a moment, he had seen a vulnerable Baekhyun. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

“So?” Both his mother and Seulgi ran to his side when he entered the restaurant. It wasn’t close to opening hours yet but they were getting ready, cleaning the counter and sorting the chairs. Seulgi almost threw her wet sponge at him when she clung unto his coat. 

 

Chanyeol made a show of briskly pulling up his pant sleeve, revealing a brand new prosthesis:

 

“Tad-ah!” He turned his fake foot right and left, showing his new beauty. “I hereby introduce you to Georgina.” He patted the prosthesis. “My newly acquired child.” He smiled proudly.

 

Seulgi scrunched her nose in distaste, “What an ugly name.”

 

“Don’t insult Georgina, you’re the ugly bear.” Chanyeol pulled out his tongue at her, and she was readying to counter back but Mrs. Lee flicked them on the forehead, both wincing before pouting at her. 

 

“What did Doctor Kim say?”

 

They walked to the counter where Chanyeol sat down, sighing in relief. His new prosthesis was fine, it suited him way better than the other one but he had to look out in case of needed adjustments. Also, his skin had yet to heal so walking with crutches as much as possible was what the doctor had advised him to do. 

 

Seulgi brought him dinner, some kimchi fried rice, a piece of chicken breast, as well as some _gamja jorim_ and pickled radish as a side dish - there was a bottle of banana milk too, which he took first. Or he was about to, but he saw the scolding eye that his mother gave him, so he reluctantly set it back on the table. Instead, he took off the bandage on his hands, his finger looking a bit like a dried plum, still slightly blue. There he could finally take a proper hold of his chopsticks.

 

He ate noisily, the hunger growing as the food he was eating awakened it. In front of him was the bandage lying on the counter, the little blushing smiling face looking at him with the same exaggerated joy as ever. Chanyeol felt bad that Thumby didn’t have more expression - he was sure that right now he was very displeased of having been taken off. It just made him think of how in some days, when his finger would have healed he would have to get rid of his dear friend Thumby. The sole thought of it made his stomach churn and guilt pile up in his throat, clogging his airways. Immediately, he slammed his chopsticks on the counter. Seulgi who was sitting beside him giving him a bewildered look but he didn’t care. He had to save Thumby. Faster than the light, he wrapped the bandage back around his finger, making sure that Thumby’s face was right on place. 

 

It could probably look silly to some, but that was just how Chanyeol was. Getting attached to the smallest things that had a meaning to him. His mother tended to say that he had too much love in his heart and that he needed to pour it into anything he could find, but Chanyeol knew otherwise. As his finger grazed on the drawn little face, he fell back into his memories, thinking of the real reason why he was attached to Thumby. Seulgi who was seated beside him, observing him from the corner of her eyes knew too. She couldn’t stand it.

 

There was the loud noise of a chair scratching against the floor as she walked away.

  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  


It was raining that day, the frigid raindrops falling on his skin and snaking themselves under his clothes, feeling like icicles slowing penetrating his skin. He inhaled deeply and just kept going steadily through the pouring torrent. Music was playing in his ears, some loud and annoying rock tune, yet he kept counting his steps. 

 

Since he couldn’t practice on his shooting technique, Coach Choi had assigned him on a cardio and mental training period. Running ten kilometers all the while counting his steps to make sure that he could focus despite the atrocious music in his ears. He wasn’t even feeling cold, the blood thumping in his veins keeping him warm, he could feel his cheeks flushed with heat despite the fact that his breathing was creating mist. 

 

He was going down the last slope of his parcours, along the same painted wall where the rabbits and the geese wearing bright pink were looking gloomier than usual covered in rain. The asphalt was slightly slippery but he was cautious, slowing down a bit. It made him think of that rainy day, on the slippery slope, when that hideous bicycle had plowed into him and from that day on it had seemed like his life had been a real rollercoaster. Chanyeol had literally came into his life like a wrecking ball when he had never asked for reconstruction, but he had now somehow built something new within the walls of his mind and Baekhyun felt glad that he was there. 

 

Turning on his left, he arrived in front of the archery room, but cursed under his breath as his hand went for the handle. He had stopped counting while getting lost in his thoughts, thinking of Park Chanyeol. The incoherent screaming was still going on in his ears and he tore the earphones off, pulling on the string harshly. Coach Choi was going to end him. He tried to make a quick calculation in his mind, remembering when he had left off and how much more he had run since then. 

 

The archery room was full, all the team members present and training on this Saturday afternoon. Some had competitions coming, Jongdae being a part of them. He walked to the coach who was talking to the younger students. When he noticed him, the coach left Yerim to train some more by applying his advices. He walked with Baekhyun in lead to his office where both took a seat. The room smelled of old paper and sweat, and Baekhyun felt a bit short on breath but his legs gave under him as he collapsed into his chair.

 

“How did it go?” Coach Choi crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back into his seat, studying him. 

 

Baekhyun munched on his lower lip:

 

“I just lost my counting 200 meters before arriving.” He replied in a breath. “I got distracted, I’m sorry Coach.” He bowed his head, but Coach Choi’s eyes didn’t warm up. 

 

“You’ll do it tomorrow.” He said simply, his hand going to his chin as he seemed to fall into his thoughts. There was a moment of silence during which all what could be heard was Baekhyun’s chair creaking when he would move his legs the slightest. “You know, I want you to try something out.” Baekhyun looked up from his lap, waiting for the instructions. “There is this poetry book I would like you to read tonight before you go to sleep. Read it while listening to music. Tomorrow I will ask you questions about the poems. Do it fairly, I just want to see how much you manage to focus. Take it as a mental exercise.” 

 

“Yes Coach.”

 

“Also, ten minutes before you go to sleep, I want you to visualize yourself at the World Championships. Close your eyes and immerse yourself in your imagination. Picture yourself at the finals, shooting your last arrow, and hitting 10 points. You win the first place. Imagine this every night before going to sleep. The way you would stand, hold your bow and position yourself as you would pull on your string. How it would feel against your fingers and your lips, and how the target would look like in front of you. And how the arrow would be propelled, and how you would win that shot. You heard me?”

 

“Yes Coach.” Baekhyun said with a louder voice, curling his fists. He was feeling jittery. His coach’s words were kind, yet his eyes were sharp and felt like needles prickling on his skin, Baekhyun just couldn’t seem to feel at ease.

 

“Byun Baekhyun.” The man suddenly called, making him jump. His heart was beating faster too, it was feeling just too heavy in his chest. He gulped, looking up and meeting eyes with the coach. “Have you told your mother about your condition?”

 

Baekhyun felt his heart drop to his stomach, and he worried his lip between his teeth, chewing  on it. 

 

“No, Coach.” He lowered his head in shame.

 

Truth be told, he had taken his splint off as soon as he had stepped inside home. He hadn’t even told her he went to the hospital. He had lied to her about practicing in the park. 

He heard the coach’s chair creak as he leaned forward and set his elbows on his desk, studying him again. His gaze was so heavy, Baekhyun felt like his skin was burning and breathing was slowly becoming harder. He felt constant pulses of agony growing deeper in his  chest, like something sharp was being inserted right there and was pressing against his ribs, constricting his right lung. He set his hands against his thighs, smoothing his sweatpants and trying to get rid of the moist feeling on his palms, but to no avail. Coach Choi finally started talking after a long drawn out sigh that seemed to only add weight on Baekhyun’s shoulders. 

 

“You know, I do not want to meddle in your personal life, Baekhyun, but as your Coach I think it is my duty to make sure that you are fine.” Coach Choi said in a more gentle voice, and his body had taken a more relaxed composure, less threatening. “You will be going through a hard period of training as soon as your wrist is healed, and it is very important for you to be getting all the best mental support you can. This starts from your family members and friends. If even something in your personal life isn’t going very well, or even if you just find yourself facing hardships, you know my proposition still stands. We have people for that at the university, or even outside.”

 

Baekhyun could see where this was headed, and it wasn’t actually where he wanted it to. Coach Choi probably felt it from how defensive Baekhyun’s posture suddenly got. The older man just sighed, before motioning for the door.

 

“You should eat now. Bulk up. You will need strength and energy for the training. Park Chanyeol brought you something I think.”

 

Baekhyun got up. Bowing his head to the coach, he left the office as quickly as he could, gasping for fresh air. But it didn’t really come. 

He walked to the bleachers where Chanyeol was seated, guitar on his lap. Beside him was Daehyun who was munching on pieces of fried chicken. They seemed to be talking in tranquil, something about music, Baekhyun thought he heard. Chanyeol seemed laid back, fingers strumming the strings here and there as he conversed with the other archery member. His legs were spread and his whole stance seemed relaxed. He was laughing when Baekhyun arrived, apparently getting along well with Daehyun. It had something twist inside of Baekhyun’s stomach, making it gurgle. He rubbed it, trying to ease the pain, but he was just feeling too hot and uncomfortable, his mouth seemed to be praying for water too. He felt so thirsty all of a sudden, like he was getting dehydrated. His head was spinning a bit as well, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. He just walked forward in hopes of finding his bag, but it was nowhere to be seen. He needed it though, he needed his water - he had filled the dabbing unicorn bottle with detox water in which he had put some slices of lime and ginger along with a bit of grapes and some bits of pomegranate. He needed it. He really,  _ really  _ needed it _.  _ However, it seemed like someone had moved his bag away, and he just couldn’t find it. 

 

“Hey.” He felt someone walking up to him as he was looking under the bleachers. “I brought  you food.” It was Chanyeol with his chirpy voice. He was holding up a thermos - the cyan one this time, and he looked all like his sunshiney self, but Baekhyun ignored him, too preoccupied to find his bag. His breathing was becoming more and more rushed and his stomach was churning violently. Chanyeol seemed to catch that something wasn’t quite right. “Are you looking for something?”

 

“My water bottle.” Baekhyun briskly reply under his breath, not even glancing at Chanyeol.

 

“I have banana milk for you, it’s fine.” Chanyeol said cluelessly. “Stop looking for your bag and come eat, you must be hungry from all your running. Mom made an awesome ginseng chicken soup for you.”

 

Baekhyun felt a hand coming around his arm and trying to gently pull him away from the bleachers, but the touch just felt like another veil had been wrapped around his lungs and set his whole body on fire. He pushed the hand away, taking some steps back. 

 

“I’m not hungry.” He said in between his frantic breaths, looking all alarmed. Chanyeol was watching him with worry in his eyes, a perplexed frown appearing between his brows.

 

“Hey, Baekhyun. Are you sure you’re alright?” Chanyeol didn’t try to step closer, giving him his space, but he did voice out his concern well.

 

Then, another voice perked up:

 

“Need to go to the toilets again, Byun? Maybe you should hurry up this time.” there was a venomous chuckle, and of course it was coming from Jung Daehyun. Baekhyun felt his stomach twist again, and bile went up his throat. He gave the man the mightiest glare he could manage - which wasn’t hard - before he stalked off, going for the exit door. 

 

Cold wind and raindrops slapped his face like a thousand needles but he didn’t care, he just needed to get away, to get somewhere where no one would see him crumble. His stomach was making a loud grunting sound, like it was being twisted apart - and it did feel so. It was hurting so much and Baekhyun could feel himself go weak, his body temperature rising, he was feeling lightheaded. Panic was slowly crippling, like thousands of ants, all coursing up his epidermis starting from the tips of his fingers. He rubbed his palms against his sweatpants but the fabric was humid from the rain and it just made him feel nastier. He hated feeling his fingers unclean, it would always trigger his OCD. There was no air. There was no air. He gasped for it but it wouldn’t come, his chest, so, so compressed by the poignant pain. He crouched to the ground by a tree, he didn’t even know where he was. His fingers grasped for the bark and he pressed his forehead against the trunk. There were tears streaming down his cheeks, they were stinging his eyes and he was like a fish out of the water, gasping for oxygen but only being met with nothingness. His breathing was erratic yet he felt breathless, suffocating, and the pain in his chest and stomach had him sobbing.

 

Suddenly, something was pushed against his hands, something a bit rough on the edges but smooth as his fingers felt it. A hand came to the back of his nape, it was cold, it felt good, it was massaging him gently, stroking the locks at the base of his head when down on his muscles, pressing gently on them - the coldness of the fingers soothed his burning body. It was a paper bag that had been pushed onto his hands, he realized. Automatically, he brought it to his mouth, fingers shaking so madly that he nearly dropped it but he pressed hard, and inhaled deeply. Exhaled longly. Inhaled. Exhaled.

 

“Here, here. You’re good. You’re okay.”

 

The fingers were threaded in his hair now, massaging his scalp, pushing the locks back before the hand slid down along his nap and found its place on his back, drawing gentle lines there. Up and down. Up. Down.

 

He focused on his breathing, deep inhales, longer exhales. His airways were starting to function properly again. Slowly, the oxygen came back. The pain in his chest was still there, still hurting, but it was dull now, less piercing. Same for his stomach. His body felt heavy. He dropped the bag, gasping for air without it now, but it was better. He could breathe again. His fingers dug into the humid earth, and his shoulder leaned against the tree trunk. He felt something covering him, and it was then that he noticed that despite how much his body felt on fire, he was shivering, frozen and soaked by the rain. He tugged at the fabric of the coat that had been set on him - its bright canary yellow color hurting his eyes, but it was the color of Sun and it made him smile before he closed his eyes and felt something pulling him into an embrace, something caring and gentle that felt like a safe haven. He brought his knees to his chest and let the fatigue that had fallen upon him take the lid. His hand was still pressed against his chest, the pain slowly fading, and soon a peaceful darkness and comforting warmth enveloped him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He looked peaceful now. He had that way of sleeping, like a baby seeking for his mother’s warmth, all curled up on himself, looking so small. His parted lips would sometimes let out little whines and they always had Chanyeol’s lips pull up in a small smile. Baekhyun’s hands were clinging to his leg, his head resting on his thigh. He was all bundled up in Chanyeol’s raincoat, literally floating in the cloth and he would sometimes pull at the fabric, shivering and moaning a bit as if he was feeling cold. 

Chanyeol had respectfully gathered his hands on his own lap, making sure not to succumb to the temptation of stroking the archer’s hair. He had been sitting in the park under a beech tree for a good forty minutes now, watching the boy sleep on his lap. There were some hints of purple under Baekhyun’s eyes that told him just how much the boy needed the rest, so he let him be. Not that he minded anyway. 

 

Chanyeol’s lips pursed into a pout when he thought back to it - seeing Baekhyun fall onto his knees, barely able to breathe from the anxiety. It had taken him aback. Chanyeol had seen the pain, like he could it it himself. He had felt Baekhyun’s pain, and it had been so hard to witness. To see Byun Baekhyun who always stood so proud and strong, eyes fierce and mind unwavering, falling into pieces like like this. It was so hard to see the person you like suffer, but being unable to do anything about it. Chanyeol hated it. He really wished he could do something about it. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He cracked his eyes open - they stung a bit and his eyelids felt heavy, plus the sunlight was too strong and it blinded him. His sight went from back to burning red before the fogginess slowly faded and he could make out the shapes and colors progressively. There was a face looking at him, lips wearing a pout and eyes bearing concern. Curly dark strands like curtains framing the face were slowly wafting with the breeze, a halo of sunlight around the head that made the hair shine of a bright copper. Baekhyun felt his air being taken from his lungs, making him just a tad breathless.

 

“Jesus, is that you?” His voice was croaky, and his blinked. The light was still hurting his eyes. It seemed like Jesus was frowning at him.

 

“Did you hit your head?”

 

That was Chanyeol’s voice. Right, this was Park Chanyeol. Park Chanyeol was staring down at him. He, Byun Baekhyun, was resting on Jesus’ - no, Park Chanyeol’s - lap. He shot up from the taller’s leg and shuddered rigidly like an arrow, blinking his eyes and feeling the blush creep up on his cheeks.

 

“You look like Jesus with your hair like this.” He grumbled as he rolled his eyes, attempting to pass off his moment of confusion as a simple joke, trying to play it cool. “You should cut it, you look silly.”

 

“Don’t talk like that to Jesus, you punk.” 

 

Baekhyun yelped as he felt a stinging pain on his forehead. Chanyeol had just flicked him. He didn’t retaliate though. He was still feeling a bit disoriented and groggy, so he just sat up, leaning his back against the tree. He could feel Chanyeol’s arm against his. His body was cold and made Baekhyun shiver so he pulled on the raincoat, using it as a blanket. Out of pure natural human compassionate feelings, he pulled the clothing so that it would cover Chanyeol too and he moved a bit closer to the man to make it easier, making sure that both of them were covered right. But he made the fatal error of glancing at his side, and he saw Park Chanyeol grinning widely at him, it was almost creepy. 

 

“Don’t you dare doing anything funny to me, I’m just cold but too exhausted to get up.”

 

“No worries, Jesus always behaves.” Chanyeol made a cross sign, murmuring amen before extending his arm out of their makeshift cover and brought something onto his lap. It was a plastic bag with the thermos, bottles of banana milk and some tangerines in it. There was the rustling of the plastic, and then the little popping sound when Chanyeol twisted the lid of the thermos open, a delicious smell escaping from the bottle making his stomach immediately groan in reply. Chanyeol just smiled at him, presenting him the food.

 

“Eat up.” He said, handing the spoon to Baekhyun. 

 

“What about you?” The archer took the thermos and hugged it against his chest, battling so that the raincoat would still keep him warm as he tried to minimize his arm’s exposure to the outside. It was quite a hassle, but he managed it somehow.

 

“I’m fine.” Chanyeol just shrugged, still smiling as he looked at Baekhyun.

 

The latter gave him a doubtful look but said nothing. Instead, he took a spoonful of the broth and brought it no his lips. The soup was still tepid and it was perfectly spiced, it made Baekhyun feel warm. Mrs. Lee had made it so that it was chicken breast and not a whole chicken, which permitted it to fit in the thermos. There was the rice too, and the green onions were a bit crunchy just like he liked them.  _ Samgyetang _ was a dish that Koreans would usually eat during the three hottest of summer, but having it on winter felt just as nice. There was something to it though that gave it a particular taste, just a tad sweeter than it should be. Baekhyun pressed the heated spoon against his lips, thoughtful for a few seconds, but he just couldn’t set his finger on which ingredient had been added to the original recipe.

 

“It’s honey.” Chanyeol said a with a brisk chuckle. “Mom loves to add it on winter, for sore throats.” 

 

“It’s tasty.” He murmured.

 

And in reply, he got the sound of a stomach gurgling. He glanced at Chanyeol who was blushing. 

 

“Is Jesus’ stomach trying to give us a subliminal message?” He lifted an eyebrow, trying hard not to let his cocky smile show. He pushed the thermos unto Chanyeol who took it shyly, but his eyes lit up when he saw the food.

 

“He’s thanking God for the meal.” 

 

“God says your welcome.” Baekhyun gave a cowboy-like two-fingers salute, winking at him. 

 

Like this, they passed the thermos to each other, eating by turns. They both found a sort of solace to the silence, watching the grass bend under the way of the droplets falling on it. Thankfully the rain couldn’t reach them as the tree’s foliage was shielding them. Baekhyun’s head was resting on Chanyeol’s shoulder, and their legs were pressed together, both curled under the raincoat as Chanyeol was busy peeling tangerines while Baekhyun was trying to catch the last grains of rice at the bottom of the thermos with his spoon. The citrus fruits smelled strong, Baekhyun was sure that Chanyeol’s fingers would smell too afterwards, it was always the same with tangerines. The guitarist seemed particularly skilled in the peeling art - the skin coming off in one perfect spiral, not the usual messy flower shape Baekhyun liked to make when he tried to peel the fruit in one go. Once done, Chanyeol parted the tangerine into two, giving him the bigger half, which he thanked him for. The fruits were ripen and juicy, and tasted great. 

 

“About a month ago, there was this important competition against Andong University.” 

 

Chanyeol was surprised to hear Baekhyun talk. He was a bit confused, not understanding where this was coming from, but he kept quiet, giving and attentive ear. 

 

“I was supposed to compete, it was for individuals and I was the representative for Hongik.” He put a slice of tangerine in his mouth, Chanyeol noticed that some juice dripped on Baekhyun’s lower lip - he gulped, and nodded when Baekhyun paused, signaling he was listening. “But I panicked. There were many people, a lot of expectations. I kept telling myself I would be alright, but my guts were telling me otherwise. My stomach hurt like hell.” He paused, licking the juice off his lips. Chanyeol gave him another half from the new tangerine he had peeled. “I had an urgent need, but it was almost my turn to shoot. It tried to keep it in, but it was just making it worse. I heard my name being called. It was my turn to go, but my legs didn’t move. It was like I was struck by pain, just as if someone had stabbed me in in the guts and was cutting my intestines. I ran. But not in the right direction. I heard my name being called again, but I ran in the opposite direction, to the toilets. I didn’t even make it on time, though.” He smiled, and Chanyeol stared at him in wonder. He could see that Baekhyun was ashamed of this. The archer sighed in frustration, leaning his head back and covering his face with his hands. “I shat myself, quite literally. I was having a panic attack. They do that to you sometimes, play with your stomach. And the fact that I had done this, right during an important competition and I was there, locked in a toilet stall all dirty and it was just making my anxiety attack worse, like a vicious cycle. I couldn’t even come out because of the state I was in.” He laughed, although there was no humor in his voice, and his hands fell helplessly on his lap as he stared at the horizon, eyes looking nowhere in particular. Chanyeol wanted to hold his hand, but he didn't. He kept listening. “It was Daehyun who found me. Daehyun who had shot in my stead - and won.” He licked his lips, a bitter smile pulling at the right corner of his lips. “Now he’s taking a mighty pleasure with the toilets jokes, which is kid understandable, I guess.”

 

“I puked on the girl I liked when I confessed to her.” Chanyeol interjected. Baekhyun’s eyes widened in shock.

 

“What?!” His neck almost snapped as he turned to look at Chanyeol.

 

“I was sixteen and I had that huge crush on this girl - believe me she was mighty hot in that green dress of hers. I was confessing to her, and she didn’t reply. And yeah, I just puked on her. Right on the green dress.” Chanyeol shrugged, throwing a slice of tangerine in the air and catching it in his mouth like it was nothing. 

 

“What did you do then?” Baekhyun blinked, himself feeling the shame that Chanyeol must have felt that day.

 

“I kissed her. She said I tasted disgusting, but she did kiss me back.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe you should have kissed Daehyun too, when he found you.”

 

Baekhyun stared at him in disbelief, before laugher rose in his throat. At first it was a small chuckle, but then it grew, and grew, and before he knew it he was just laughing out loud, hugging his stomach and hitting Chanyeol arm. Chanyeol joined him, laughing too. Baekhyun just couldn’t stop. He wasn’t even sure why he was laughing. The whole situation was so absurd, and he didn’t even know why he had told all this to Chanyeol but it had just came out on its own, and to be honest, he didn’t feel better after telling it to someone. To a friend. 

 

They had both came down from their high after a while, their laugher going with the wind - both smiling at each other as they tried to regain their breath. Baekhyun felt light. So light. And he thought Chanyeol looked beautiful like this, with his long curly hair falling like curtains around his face, so soft. He felt happy. 

 

“What I meant is, unfortunate happenings are a human thing.” Chanyeol said, sighing. His hand was on Baekhyun’s thigh, playing with the string of his sweatpants but it felt so natural, Baekhyun didn’t mind. He leaned his head back on Chanyeol’s shoulder too.  “And shame is a human feeling. It sucks that Daehyun is using this against you, but I guess you shouldn't let it get to you.” Chanyeol whispered - Baekhyun could feel his breath on his temple. He looked up, their faces were so close that he had to be a bit crossed eyed to see Chanyeol straight. “It just means his jealous because you’re a better archer than him, so you should feel mighty proud instead.” Chanyeol poked Baekhyun’s nose, and the other’s eyes widened in surprise. 

 

His phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket, startling him. Fetching it out, he saw that the caller’s ID was his mother’s. It had the feeling of lightness drop a bit.

 

“I need to go.” He suddenly stood up, almost falling back on the ground from how numb his legs were, but he caught himself to the tree.

 

“Careful there.” Chanyeol put a hand on his thigh, trying to help as much as he could from his sitting position. 

 

Baekhyun managed to smile at him. “It’s okay. I just really need to go.” He nodded his head in apology.

 

He was about to stride off when something caught onto the hem of his pants. 

 

“Wait.”

 

It was Chanyeol, of course.

 

“I want to see Mongryeong. Can I see him soon? He’s my child after all.” He pouted, giving little instisting tugs to Baekhyun’s sweatpants. 

 

The archer chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. He ended up nodding, though.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll text you when I’ll walk him.” He replied, the second time sounding more certain than the first. He was smiling a bit more too. 

 

And that made Chanyeol smile.

 

“Yeah.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He was quick to take off his splint, burying the thing under his shorts, tucking it against his waistband. He hurried into the archery room but he stopped in his tracks when he saw that his mother was there, talking with Coach Choi. He heard someone run up to him, feeling a hand that placed itself on his shoulder.

 

"Dae." He breathed, automatically taking this friend's hand in his. His eyes were attached to the office where the two adults were talking.

 

His mother was standing in front of the desk, apparently reluctant on sitting down, while Coach Choi hadn't hold himself back from doing so. It was known that there were bad waters between the two, but Baekhyun's mother certainly couldn't complain about Coach Choi - at least not more than she had already tried to - he was very much qualified to be the archery Coach for Hongik University, and he had always brought great results to the team, so no matter how important or influential Baekhyun's mother was, all her attempts of getting their Coach changed had failed.

 

"She didn't notice you weren't here, don't worry." Jongdae patted his shoulder, giving him a supportive squeeze. "She walked head first in the office, been there for a good ten minutes now."

 

Baekhyun nodded, worrying his lip between his teeth. At that precise moment, Coach Choi seemed to notice him. With a hand gesture, the man signalled for him to come in. Baekhyun inhaled deeply before he walked in, pushing the door open. The stale smell of old paper invaded his nose, not really helping him with his breathing. He walked up to his mother, standing beside her with his hands behind his back.

 

"Baekhyun." His coach acknowledged. He bowed in response. "I was talking to your mother about the exercices I decided to give you. I told her that your body needed some rest before we would start on the physical training. I also told her how important it was for your mental health to be boosted. Healthy food, relaxation time, the little exercises I gave you for focus and self-confidence too, and I was talking with her about how maybe getting a counselor would be good for you."

 

"My son needs no counselor." His mother’s voice snapped, voice not getting loud, but her tone dangerous. "My son is perfectly healthy and he does not need to go where the crazy and sick people go." She pressed her lips in a thin line, her features stern and severe, eyes burning in threat.

 

"I am not saying that Baekhyun is sick or even crazy, Ms. Kim. All I'm saying is that Baekhyun is going to go through rough times. Practice will get hard and he will be under a lot of stress. Getting a counselor might be wise to prevent anything to happen and make sure his mind will be ready for the competition." Coach Choi seemed to be trying hard to be diplomatic, but it could be seen from the way he was clutching at his pen that he was boiling inside.

 

All Baekhyun could do was look at his feet, and think back to the tangerines and the anxiety attack he had just went through. Coach Choi was aware of his anxiety problems, he had been there when the little mishap had happened during the competition against Andong University. Only his mother wasn't aware of the real reason as to why Baekhyun had ended up withdrawing from the competition. Only his own mother, whom he was living with, wasn't aware of his condition.

 

"Baekhyun is my son and I refuse. He is perfectly fine and doesn't need your shamanism." His mother stated with a note of finality before she turned on her heels and walked to the door. Baekhyun shared a knowing look with Coach Choi, both apologetic for his mother's behaviour and thankful to his Coach for not telling her the real reason as to why he actually couldn't practice for the next ten days.

 

He exited the office, following his mother. Jongdae was there waiting by the door with Baekhyun's bag in hand. He handed it to Baekhyun, giving him a silent cheer. Baekhyun set the bag on his shoulder, wincing a bit from the pain that coursed through his wrist, but his mother didn't see anything. He followed her out of the archery room, bag on back feeling, so, so heavy.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Lady Swing was bouncing on his back as he walked down the slope, back from  _ The Rain in the Sea _ . It wasn’t Thursday so he hadn’t been arranged to play, but an artist had dropped out from his slot and Sangmin had called Chanyeol to perform in his stead. He had managed to get his little smiley cup full this night again, so it was always a good thing, although unplanned. He was happy that things were moving forward. 

As he could see his building coming to sight, he let out a breath of relief, a cloud of mist forming in front of him. His stump was hurting and he had only one wish: to crawl into his shower under the hot tape and never come out of it again. It felt like he was reaching the doors of heaven - or he thought that was how reaching the doors of heaven felt, anyway - as he arrived in front of his building. He almost lost his footing in the stairs but miraculously caught himself before any mishap happened. However, it seemed like fate was against him going home that night. Just as he was about to tap in the code into the PIN keypad, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Fetching it out, he saw a message notification from someone that stole a smile from him.

 

**From : Baekhyun**

_ I’m walking Mongryeong at the Gyeongui Line Park. Waiting for you by the apple. _

 

He looked up from his screen, biting on his smiling lips. The fact that Baekhyun had messaged him to tell him that he was out with Mongryeong made Chanyeol all giddy inside, the fatigue magically vanishing. His stump was still being a bother, but the perspective of seeing the little corgi and his owner sounded like a reason good enough to put through it a bit more. He walked down the stairs, going to fetch Django who was tied to the rack by his building with happiness in each step.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

The Gyeongui Line was, as its name said, an old railway line. Built by the Japanese in 1905, it used to run north from Seoul, all the way up the western Korean Peninsula to Sinuiju, almost 500 km away on the Chinese border. However, the division of Korea into two states had led to the severance of the line near the DMZ. But in 2005, work began on relocating much of the Seoul portion of the Gyeongui Line underground, clearing the path for the forest trail. Nowadays, the place restored by the city had been renamed Gyeongui Line Forest Park and was home to a little heart of earth amidst the skyscrapers of Seoul, where the people came to have a nice time and enjoy themselves. Many small restaurants and bars littered throughout the park could be found, as well as art deco statues, diverse playgrounds and swings, all circled with kilometers of green grass and trees, sometimes the remnants of the old, old railway line here and there. 

It was late but it seemed that quite a few families and couples had decided to take a stroll in the park, the cold breeze representing no trouble for the Seoulites to enjoy themselves. Chanyeol arrived to the apple within a good quarter of an hour, panting but smiling wildly as he saw Baekhyun sitting on the fruit shaped structure with Mongryeong frolicking in front of him with a tennis ball in his mouth. The apple was exactly what the name said - a gigantic apple statue, cut in two halves.

 

“Did you kill anyone with your bike this time?” Baekhyun asked as he eyed Chanyeol who was walking towards him, pushing Django beside him. 

 

Chanyeol just gave him an eye roll before he took off his guitar case and set it against the other apple half which was in an upright position. Django was set vertically as well, streamers floating with the breeze. It seemed to attract Mongryeong who suddenly bounced toward the bicycle, jumping to nip at the streamers, but his chubby fluffy self barely managed to take off from the ground, looking more like a little ball of fur wiggling its butt than anything else. It had Chanyeol squeal, probably deafening Baekhyun but he couldn’t care less. He threw himself - gently - at the dog, hugging it fondly and patting it on the stomach. Mongryeong seemed to appreciate the attention, wiggling his paws in the air and emitting little barks of joy.

 

“I missed you, my son.” Chanyeol faked tears of joy, but truth be told they were almost real. He seriously had a soft spot for the little corgi. 

 

“The more I look at it and the uglier this Dumbo Reynolds bicycle of yours gets.” A voice suddenly popped Chanyeol’s little bubble of joy. Baekhyun was still sitting on the other apple half, seemingly studying Django as he scratched his chin in thought. “I never thought I’d say that, since it was already pretty ugly for the start.” He sighed, shaking his head in marked distaste. 

 

“People used to make fun of the Batmobile before they knew it was Batman who was driving it.” Chanyeol sighed dramatically, going to sit beside Baekhyun with a huff, all grace and manners gone as he went into a full manspread, purposely pushing Baekhyun’s legs as to try to make him fall from the apple-shaped seat. 

 

Baekhyun just gave him a death glare before he elbowed Chanyeol’s thigh. Hard. Very, particularly hard. Chanyeol let out the girliest shriek he had ever conceived. 

 

“Who the hell dares to defy Jesus like this?!” He scolded, slapping Baekhyun’s thigh in return. However, he only ended up shrieking again because all he had managed to do was hurt his own palm, and Baekhyun was laughing out loud, completely unbothered, thigh appearing to be  completely numb from the hit it had taken. 

 

His laugh was powerful and resonant. Mongryeong was looking at them both, yipping excitedly as if trying to join in to whatever celebration the two were having, but Chanyeol wasn’t laughing. Baekhyun was so utterly ethereal like this, laughing like he hadn’t had a care in the world, Nose scrunched and pointy canines showing behind his rectangular smile, eyes gone behind moon crescents. The way he would lean his head back as he laughed, fluffy bangs moving in rhythm around his face, and the way he would try to hide his smile behind his long, slender fingers - but would always be a little too late, remembering only after a few seconds into his laugh that his mouth was uncovered. And it was during this few seconds when he would forget to be self-conscious, that Chanyeol felt as if he had been given the privilege to see a star shine from up close.

 

But all of a sudden, Baekhyun’s eyes turned dark, menacingly so, like the devil had taken home into his irises, and before Chanyeol could process what was happening, he found himself tackled to the ground. In his fall, however, he caught onto something, pulling it down with him, and a weight fell on top of him, cutting of his air supplies in the shock. When he opened his eyes again, Baekhyun was on top of him, hands above his head and looking down at him a little bit disoriented.

 

“Shit, sorry I didn’t think you would’ve fallen like this.” He started apologizing, slowly moving his legs as to get off from Chanyeol who could finally breathe again.

 

Chanyeol had the strange reaction of thinking how ironic it sounded, since he had already fallen for Baekhyun long ago, but thankfully he didn’t have to time to voice out his thoughts as Baekhyun had the bad idea of pressing his knee against Chanyeol’s leg, on his stump, just above where the prosthesis started and where his skin was infected. A sharp gasp left Chanyeol’s lips and he pushed Baekhyun off himself in reflex, pulling his leg away. He sat up straight, pressing his hand against the place where he had been hurt, breathing heavily as to not moan in pain. It stung terribly, he was quite sure that the blisters had opened back, he could feel it. This was bad.

 

“Hey, are you okay?” Baekhyun reached for Chanyeol’s arm, worry lacing his voice. 

 

Chanyeol just nodded, still groaning under his breath. He turned around, getting on his knees as he tried to get up but he was pretty sure he looked ridiculous like this, however he simply didn’t look in Baekhyun’s direction, somehow feeling mortified. He just wanted to grab Django to cycle away to be forgotten and die from the pain in a hole. 

 

“Here, let me help out.” Baekhyun tried to take his arm and pull him up, but it only made Chanyeol feel even more like a  _ failure.  _ He pulled away from Baekhyun’s hold, maybe a bit too harshly, murmuring a breathy ‘I’m fine’ under his breath as he pushed himself to get up. 

 

The pain in his stump was unbearable, like fire licking at his flesh, yet he had to put his weight on it. His knee was trembling from the pain and almost collapsed, but Baekhyun caught him and he didn’t pull away as he did previously, leaning on the boy just so he could regain his breath and let the pain decrease a bit.

Arms wrapped themselves around his waist and he felt Baekhyun pulling him in, hand drawing circles on his back. He said nothing, just stroking, stroking, stroking Chanyeol’s back - hugging him until he was fine. Chanyeol’s fingers curled into the fabric of Baekhyun’s hoodie, trembling, and he tried so hard to not let the tears come out - to not show to the person he loved and admired how much of a pathetic case he was. 

 

“I need to go.” He abruptly distanced himself from the embrace, walking two steps back, making sure he wasn’t showing the agony in each movement. 

 

Baekhyun looked at him with concern in his eyes, and Chanyeol felt something nudging him in his good leg. Looking down, he saw that Mongryeong was nudging his snout onto his ankle as if he had understood Chanyeol’s words, and was begging him not to go. 

He didn’t want to leave, but it felt as if he would collapse if he stayed a second longer. Patting the corgi on the head, he limped to his bicycle after setting Lady Swing on his back. His eyes drifted to Baekhyun who was still looking at him, unmoving although Mongryeong was pawing at the hem of his sweatpants, craving for attention. 

Chanyeol sat on his bicycle, setting his bad leg on the pedal -this way he wasn’t putting his weight on it, and it was just much better, he sighed in relief. 

 

“I’m sorry. Don’t think I’m running away from you, this was fun.” He said with a small smile to Baekhyun. “I just need to go.”

 

He didn’t give Baekhyun the time to say anything. Pushing hs pedals with his bad leg first, he dug his teeth into his lower lip, muffling a grunt of pain. 

Keeping it in, he pedalled away, the cold breeze helping him to breathe through the pain a bit. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He hated doing this. There was nothing more he hated on earth than having to adjust his prosthesis on the street. Usually, he would always make sure that it was rightly on before going out. But Georgina was new, and she needed regular adjustments before he would find the right way to put it without having to adjust it every ten minutes or so. Had he been given the choice, he would have waited until he was home to put on more socks, but cycling just hurt too much. The prosthesis was too loose - he needed to add socks on - since he could feel its edge digging into his stump every time he would move his leg to cycle. It felt like he was giving up, when he let Django fall to the ground and he crashed on the pavement, rolling up his sweatpants and detaching Georgina hurriedly. Just doing this felt freeing, however, despite the seven socks he was wearing, he could see the blood oozing through them. 

 

“Schnitzel.”

 

He clenched his teeth and proceeded to peel them off slowly, one by one. The last one was the hardest, for some blood and pus had dried on the sock, and taking it off was like tearing open the wounds again. Closing his eyes, he just gave it one good tug, inhaling through the pain. And when he opened them again, he saw the extent of the damages. The part of his stump just below the knee was covered in bloody blisters so deep they looked like cuts, and some of the blood had dribbled down and was smeared on his shin and calf, along with streaks of pus. He tried to breathe properly, inhaling and exhaling deeply, lengthily.

 

“Come on, you can do this.” He tried to sing to himself under his breath. 

 

The pavement was so cold, he could feel the chills seep through his body and bite at his bones. His rear was numb from the freezing weather and his legs were shuddering. 

 

“ _ Come on _ .”

 

It was with trembling fingers that he unzipped the pocket in his guitar case and fumbled to find the disinfectant. He almost dropped the small bottle as he tried to spray it over his wounds, and the liquid stung a lot. He wasn’t sure of what he was doing, his fingers had gone numb again it seemed, and he just couldn’t  _ feel  _ the bottle in his hand, so pressing the damn spray was just unfeasible. He tried, but his fingers were just quivering too much and he couldn’t get it right. It was becoming worse and worse, he could feel his eyes sting and no matter how much he blinked, the biting pain just continued to increase. He tried to press on the nozzle once again, but the bottle just flew out of his hand and dropped to the ground, slowly rolling down the slope. He saw it go toward an old lady which was walking up toward him. Taking a deep breath, he tried his luck.

 

“Excuse me, ma’am.” He lifted his finger, pointing toward the dropped disinfectant that had rolled to her. “Would you mind giving me a hand?”

 

He hated asking for help. He just wanted to roll down his pants and throw Georgina in the nearest bush so no one would have to see just what kind of  _ defection _ he had was.  

The old lady frowned at him, her button nose scrunched in distaste. She slowly bent down to pick it up, and just as Chanyeol felt some relief washing over him, he was taken aback when the old lady suddenly threw the bottle at him, hitting him hard in the chest.

 

“You’re such a disgusting human being!” She snarled in her husky and quaking voice in which all antipathy could be felt. “Are you trying to put on a show so I would give you my hard-earned money? You disgusting little beggar!” She suddenly spat at his foot, startling him. “Hide this monstrosity, will you?” She huffed before she quickly walked past him, making sure he wasn’t in her sight, walking off the sidewalk just so there would be a respectful perimeter between him and her.

 

Chanyeol just watched her with wide eyes, his heart constricted in his chest hurting so much. There was a loud whizzing sound, and it took him some good seconds to notice that they were coming from him. He curled his hands into fists, but he couldn’t even feel them, and there was just his bandaged middle finger which stayed up, Thumby graciously smiling at him, his face a bit dirtied and smudged, but still radiating with so much happiness despite how mistreated he had been in his little Thumby life. Chanyeol had always tried to be like this too, to always smile through the hurdles of life. But sometimes it seemed like life, or whoever was planning it, was just having too much fun testing his patience and sometimes, he just didn’t feel like putting on a smile. Right now, he just felt like crying, really. He just felt like curling up into a ball, on the cold pavement, and wait for it to all be done and gone. 

 

He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t even find the strength to get up. His hands were numb and the pain in his back was looming in the corner, breathing was hard, and as if on cue, a terrible cough erupted from his throat, phlegm clogging it and choking him, making him wheeze, and wheeze, and cough, until something of a rusty, slightly crimson brown came out, slimy on the ground, and he stared at it, and stared, and he was just trying so hard not to break down.

Slowly, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. It took him a great minute to dial the number, his numb fingers just wouldn’t get the numbers right, pressing too long or not enough on the screen. Then, a low voice finally replied, and it was in a shaky, pleading voice that he was so ashamed of that Chanyeol managed to say:

 

“Hun, help me.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“We should go home, shall we?” Baekhyun asked in a whisper. The earth was cold and a bit humid, he could feel it through his sweatpants, but he didn’t make a move to stand up. He was curled in a ball, back leaning against the apple while Mongryeong was on his lap enjoying a good belly rub, his eyes blinking up at Baekhyun as if he was listening to him. The corgi nipped at his index when he tried to poke his snout. It had Baekhyun chuckle. 

 

In his back pocket, he could feel his smartphone vibrate once again. It was the third time already, but he still didn’t want to reply.

It was a compressing feeling, as if something had filled his chest and made his whole body feel denser, like his whole body was planted into the cold ground and he was slowly taking root, never being able to move. He didn’t want to go home. He just didn’t have the courage to face her.

So he simply fetched out his phone and typed down a message saying he would stay at a friend’s place for the night, before he buried the device back in his hoodie’s pocket and closed his eyes, trying to shut everything out and just breathe a bit more. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“One would think that losing your leg would have been a good way for you to lose weight but you’re still as heavy as ever.” Sehun grunted as he helped Chanyeol up the stairs.

 

Of course, it was precisely tonight that the building’s elevator had to be out of order. Chanyeol didn’t reply to his joke though, and it made him feel a bit saddened. Chanyeol would always reply to his playful jabs, no matter how down he felt. 

When Sehun had gotten the phone call, he had been taken aback, the blood in his veins freezing from both surprise and fear. Chanyeol practically never called him when something like this happened, he would only tell him later on, in the tone of a joke, like it was some kind of adventurous mishap, some exciting event that he had gone through and that he was telling just for comic purposes. Sehun knew that deep inside, there was always a little part in Chanyeol’s heart that would get hurt every time he would face discrimination because of his amputated leg, but his friend liked to keep a smile on his lips and let his positivity wash away any resentful feelings he could have. But tonight, there just was something different. He had found Chanyeol on the ground, with Django lying some meters away with its handlebars crooked and the streamers stuck against the pavement. His friend’s shoulders had never been this hunched, and he had been hiding his face between his knees, his stump leaned against his prosthesis in the cold air, showing just how infected it had gotten. Chanyeol wasn’t crying - Sehun had seen him cry just once, and that had been when his friend had encountered death. Chanyeol wasn’t crying, but he seemed to be having difficulties breathing. He had rushed there as fast as possible, but he knew he could have never made it on time since Chanyeol had gotten hurt even prior calling him. It was a thing he always reproached him about. He should call him  _ before _ it was too late, but Chanyeol was a hard headed person and he didn’t want to depend on others. Pity was what he hated the most, and Sehun had learnt not to give it to him.

 

However, that night Chanyeol was truly in a pitiful state. 

 

Fetching the spare keys in his jeans, Sehun proceeded to open the front door of Chanyeol’s studio without letting him go. Chanyeol was leaning on him, balancing himself with his crutch on the other side. Sehun had first taken care of Django, getting it into the storage room before he had went to fetch Chanyeol’s crutch and went back outside to help his friend home. 

 

They entered the studio stumbling, and Chanyeol crashed onto his bed as soon as he got near it. He let out the longest sigh ever, hiding his face behind his arm and not saying anything.

 

It was strange for Sehun, for this silence to fill the space between them. There was comfortable silence sometimes when they were together, but it was never this kind of silence. This one was heavy and thick and it was unpleasant, like things had to be said but both knew what they were so neither spoke. Sehun had simply walked to the closet from which he fetched out the first-aid kit before he walked back to the bed and sat down on it, setting Chanyeol’s stump on his lap. He rolled up the pant sleeve, taking care of not hurting his friend in the process. 

When the skin was revealed, it almost made him shudder from the latter’s pain. There was a concrete line showing where the edge of the prosthesis was and how deep it had dug into the flesh, tearing off the skin to the point of dark blood dripping from the flesh, large blisters around the cut which had gotten infected, the skin now a bit red and swollen, hot under the pad of his fingers. No wonder Chanyeol couldn’t walk in such a state, it was even a miracle he had managed to cycle home from wherever the hell he had been.

 

“You know you’re supposed to take your crutches when it gets like this. Your stump needs to rest.” He gently scolded as he took out some gauze pads on which he sprayed disinfectant. 

 

Chanyeol didn’t reply, his eyes set on the ceiling, thoughts somewhere else. He closed them when Sehun started dabbing the cotton onto the wounds, clenching his teeth and breathing through his nose. It stung. He had felt pain worse than what he was experiencing, though. On the back of his eyelids flashed the memories of just before, in the park, with Baekhyun. He wished he could have stayed longer, just enjoying the cold night air relaxedly with Baekhyun and playing with Mongryeong. Just doing something normal, for once.

 

He knew he was normal. He knew. But there were times like this when he would just be reminded that there was this little detail about him that made him a bit different and that sometimes he should be more careful than anybody else. It was usually something he didn’t care about, something he wouldn’t let become a burden. But there were times when his spirits were too tired and he just  _ couldn’t  _ be positive and he just felt like a failure - like there was no aspect in life that he could smile about, for life wasn’t designated for people like him. 

 

And those were the times when he broke down.

 

He felt the mattress move as Sehun was standing up, but Chanyeol caught him by the sleeve before he could do so. The red metallic box fell to the ground, its contents spilled on the floor messily, rolls of gauze unravelling and band-aids slipping out of their boxes while little flasks rolled untidily on the ground. 

 

Sehun didn’t say anything, face unwavering as Chanyeol needily pulled him in, making little whining sounds as his irises dug into Sehun’s. He watched as Chanyeol desperately tugged at his sweater, cold fingers snaking themselves under the wool and nipping at his hips, trying to cradle him into a hug. Sehun let his body fall against Chanyeol, his hands caging the taller one. A knee slipped itself between his legs and his abdomen hardened in response - he exhaled.

 

“You never want to do it here usually.” Sehun pointed out, voice flat, but eyes scrutinizing Chanyeol’s emotions. They were barren, but there was something in the curve of his lips, something in the light of his pupils that told how vast the distress Chanyeol was feeling. It worried him. He pushed Chanyeol’s hair away from his eyes, some strands having got caught in his lashes. He was pouting.

 

“I want it now.” He whispered as his lips went for Sehun’s neck, hands drawing a line up the toned back. Sehun shuddered. 

 

There was just something about the way the hands were touching him. The same feeling he always got - the feeling of need, but not a sexual kind of need, more of an emotional one, a vital one - was augmented. Chanyeol  _ needed _ . And Sehun was overwhelmed. 

He flinched. 

And something in Chanyeol’s gaze just snapped, flooding Sehun’s heart with profound fear. 

 

Chanyeol needed to feel loved. Chanyeol needed to feel comforted - to feel that there was someone out there that could love him the way he was, no matter how repugnant and undesirable he was probably feeling. Sehun knew how to read Chanyeol.

 

He leaned in, kissing his forehead.

 

“Dummy.” He sighed.

 

And he felt Chanyeol’s nails. How they dug into his back, and his his fingers were trembling. He kissed his forehead again, and again, and again. Then his humid eyelids, and his cheekbones.

And he felt the fingers tangled in his hair when he kissed the naked thighs, and licked down the stump. He liked those legs a lot. Chanyeol had beautiful legs. He kept telling him. Chanyeol would always say he had a weird kink - but Sehun truly thought that Chanyeol had beautiful legs. 

 

He felt the fingers pull at his hair when he took him into his mouth, when he tried to make him feel how desirable he was. 

 

He knew that the reason why they had started all of this - adding this sort of sexual intimacy to their friendship - was because Chanyeol needed to feel desired through sex. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

If being an amputee wasn’t exactly easy everyday, it could get even more complicated in some places. South Korea was one for those places. Living in a country where the infrastructures weren’t made for physically disabled people, door frames too narrow for wheelchairs to pass, the lack of elevators in some subway stations, the inadequate public transports and housing, the steep slopes that were typical of the South Korean scenery, the daily discrimination and abusive judgemental stares of your compatriotes that was inked like routine in their mindset was just some of the burdens to live with. 

 

In 2017, roughly five percent of South Korea’s population was registered as having a disability. But, as in many other societies, disabilities are still nowadays too often considered synonymous with abnormality and defect, a shameful blemish that must be hidden from sight. That made it five percent of a population of roughly 50 million that has been calling for help for years, but in the best cases was often unheard, and in the worst case, despised.

 

The government had tried to make things a bit better for disabled people, but even that wasn’t working.  Since 1988, in South Korea, people with disabilities can apply for six levels of disability, which correspond to different levels of government assistance and benefits. The levels are decided by the National Pension Service based on strictly medical criteria.

 

However, anger had been showed from people who thought of the system as unfair. In 2012, groups of disabled people went on the streets, trying to be heard in front of the people and the government. But it wasn’t enough. Worse, the system was unfair, felt like an oversimplification and unequitable hierarchisation of disabilities by the concerned ones - as it would  rest entirely upon medical assessment while not taking into account external conditions which play a crucial role in assessing disability and which doesn’t factor in which specific services individuals with disabilities need help. 

 

Another target of the protests are the facilities housing disabled people, which most of the protesters described as concentration camps. Those facilities, which were housing over 30,000 people in 2017, most of whom have severe impairments, were seen as many to be simply segregating people from the rest of society and perpetuating the perception of abnormality. Government reports also pointed out that they are tainted by human rights violations, but those reports often go unnoticed.

 

The protests lasted for five years, from 2012 to 2017, mainly in Gwanghwamun station in Seoul where activists from different groups would engage into sit-ins, holding banners and silently protesting. Finally,  on September 5 in 2017, the activists in Gwanghwamun Station officially ended their sit-in, after 1,842 days underground. The new government, lead by Moon Jae-In promised to meet their demands, including abolishing the classification system.

 

However, this does not mark the end of the story, as things have yet to change for the better, and the mentality of the people to grow. 

 

This was one of Chanyeol’s wishes in life, for people to stop staring at him in the street and see him as any different from them.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It had taken him a great deal of courage to go to this point, but now he needed just a bit more time to be able to press on the doorbell and wish for all of it to go right. Mongryeong was sitting at his feet, looking at him with something akin to expectation in his eyes, tongue lolling out of his mouth and mist coming out in each pant. Baekhyun was feeling cold too, the air had gotten crisper since he had left the park. A swift breeze was all he needed to finally take the initiative of pressing the button. It rang silently before a voice came out of the intercom - a bit deformed, yet familiar.

 

“Dad, it’s me.”

 

His voice came out a bit hoarse, floating with the wind, almost too frail and hesitant. There was a small silence, before he got a reply.

 

“Come in, Hyun.”

 

The gate beeped and he pushed the door open, Mongryeong barking in joy as he pulled at the leash, wanting to run into the garden. Baekhyun just let him do so, letting go off the leash and watching the corgi spring into the bushes and bark merrily, finally reuniting with the home he liked the most.

 

Baekhyun had two homes, since his parents had decided to live separately. They weren’t divorced per se, but it was just as so. His parents had never gotten along, as far as he could remember, but they had stayed together. 

For appearances. It was always for appearances. 

Divorces weren’t seen as a good thing in South Korea, and if there was one thing Baekhyun’s mother cared about, it was appearance. As a prominent prosecutor, her image was important to her, and having a stain on it was unthinkable When her marriage started crumbling into dust, she still tried to keep it intact, no matter how big the sacrifices were. She had accepted that they would live apart, but never did she accept the divorce papers. Baekhyun’s father hadn’t taken her to court for she was the law and he would never be powerful enough. Not when the reason their marriage had actually failed was because he was homosexual. 

 

“Am I bothering you?” Baekhyun asked when his father opened the door, greeting him with a playful hand that disheveled his hair. His father smiled at him, it was an honest smile.

 

“You are never bothering me, Baekhyun.” 

 

The hand stayed on his arm a bit, and although he wasn’t really one for skinship, this felt nice. He liked his father a lot. It was just a shame his mother forced him to live with her.

 

“Is it okay if I spend the night here?” He bit on his lower lip, and he saw how his father’s face turned hesitant, his hand going to rub the nap of his neck. 

 

“Is your mother aware you’re sleeping here?” He asked with a slight sigh. It wasn’t against him. It was just about the situation. Baekhyun knew it.

 

“I told her I was staying at a friend’s place.” He didn’t lie. There was no point. 

 

“Okay, but you will have to go back home tomorrow, okay? And of course she can’t know you stayed here.” His father patted his head, and after a while he gave him a warm smile, his eyes turning into moon crescents. 

 

People usually said Baekhyun looked like his mother, but when they would see his father smile, they would all realize where his looks truly came from.

 

“I heard that you won your last competition. And that you qualified for the World Championships.” He grinned, his proud snicker turning into a merry chuckle. He had this childish side to him that Baekhyun adored - it always reminded him of the playful father figure that he used to look up to, and to which his mother always frowned upon. “We should definitely celebrate that! What do you say to chicken?”

 

Baekhyun eyes widened when he heard the word, his mind going back to all the chicken he had been gobbling up for the past few days. 

 

“Oh please, not again.”

 

His father gave him an odd look, seemingly dumbfounded, but Baekhyun just broke into a laugh, and although his father stared at him with question in his eyes, Baekhyun didn’t stop. Laughter filled the room, echoing against the walls, and soon his father joined in, and it was just like a happy song. Baekhyun didn’t want it to stop. He couldn’t stop. There was something happening with his lungs, like freedom had captured them, and he wished he never had to let go of this cozy feeling.

 

It felt so nice, to be able to laugh like this, without any constricting feeling in his chest. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It was with a full stomach and his blood still buzzing with happiness in his veins that he was lying in the bed of the guest room, eyes plastered on the ceiling. His index was on his lips, drawing their shape as he proceeded to close his eyes. He had already read the poetry book before going to the park, just as Coach Choi had instructed him to. Since he was now about to go to bed, there was one last thing he was supposed to do before he could let his mind rest. Setting his hands on his stomach, he exhaled deeply. After another three months, he would be in the US for the World Archery Championships. This was something he had been dreaming of since he had started to lift his bow seriously - the last step before every athlete’s dream. The Olympics. 

He tried to visualize himself there. It was indoors. He would be in a vast gymnasium, the neon lights washing over the wooden floor, and the targets, the three small targets situated eighteen meters away from him, all measuring forty centimeters, the bull’s eyes not bigger than a grape. 

Coach Choi would be there, sitting at the front row of the bleachers, with his arms crossed over his belly just like always, studying his every movement. Chanyeol wouldn’t be there though, he realized. That would be strange, he thought. Chanyeol had been there last time. Chanyeol had been there almost every day as he practiced, always holding a Thermos with food for him, sometimes playing the guitar as Baekhyun stayed alone, all the other members already gone. It was like Chanyeol had become part of his personal cheerleading squad, and not having him when he would be competing in the US left a sort of small gaping hole in Baekhyun’s chest. 

Chanyeol was the one who had tended to him just a few hours ago, when he had his anxiety attack. He was the one who made sure that he ate and rested well, and took care of his body. He was the one to make sure that Baekhyun laughed at least once a day - made sure that he was okay.

 

But Chanyeol hadn’t seemed okay, when they were at the park. Baekhyun had noticed, how much he had been limping. As far as he could remember, Chanyeol always limped a bit, not in an obvious way, but more like one of his leg was a bit stiff. But today, it had seemed like every step was pushing Chanyeol closer to collapsing, and when Baekhyun had accidentally put some pressure on his leg, the pain he had seen flashing in Chanyeol’s eyes had taken him aback, filling him with worry. But he hadn’t acted on it fast enough. Before he had realized, Chanyeol had already escaped, leaving Baekhyun with questions tormenting his thoughts. 

 

“Oh, shit.” He opened his eyes, realizing what had just happened.

 

He had gotten distracted by the thought of Chanyeol during his focus exercise. Pressing his cold palms against his face, he sighed. What a way to go. 

  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  


Sitting on the bench, he could feel the soreness in his legs. But it was a nice feeling, like a slight burning buzz in his muscles that hinted to the effort he had just made. He was still a bit out of breath, and although his body felt heavy, there was some lightness in his steps when he had gotten up from the bench to stretch. His mind was still feeling the rush of endorphins from his jog, like a feeling of satisfaction bringing a sort of joy, making him feel as if he could crush mountains. Yet, there was an aftertaste to this feeling of ecstasy, a sort of dark void that made his chest feel slightly hollow. Baekhyun’s stomach growled, and he pressed his lips together in a thin line, holding in a sigh. 

Yet again, Chanyeol wasn’t there  for another day. 

 

It had been almost a week since the boy had came to the archery room - since that night in the park. Baekhyun hadn’t seen him on campus either, he wasn’t on that little concrete wall where he liked to go to play the guitar with his little styrofoam cup with the heart on it. Baekhyun had thought of sending him a text, but he just didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like it was a duty for Chanyeol to come here every day - nothing tied him to the archery room.

Yet, Baekhyun couldn’t push away the burgeoning feeling of disappointment. 

 

“Are you going to shower here?” Jongdae suddenly came up, holding his bow case and his bag, lips curled upward like ones of a cat. “I have an errand to run so we might not be able to go home together, unless you want to meet somewhere after I’m done. Mom needs carrots.” He shrugged with a sort of derision.

 

Baekhyun had spent one night at his father’s place before he had decided that it was safer not to test the devil again. However, he still didn’t feel like going home, the sole thought of it clogging up his chest with a knife. Since Jongdae’s dad was away in Japan for a business trip for the week, Jongdae’s mother had said that it was no problem for him to stay over. 

Baekhyun and Jongdae had been friends since primary school, both their parents know each other well - Jongdae’s mother was a bit like Baekhyun’s mother too, or more like the mother figure he wished he had. She knew of most of his troubles, and she understood that he needed time away, so she had settled it. Of course Baekhyun’s mother hadn’t been overjoyed by the news, however she had showed none of it to Jongdae’s mother, only thanking her for taking her troublesome son in for the week. But Baekhyun knew that behind the polite smile she had given to Jongdae’s mother, terrible consequences awaited him once he would get back home. Unfortunately, he would probably have to go home tonight, and that was enough to make his guts churn in anxiety.

 

Baekhyun was about to mutter a ‘yeah’ in response to Jongdae’s question when his stomach replied for him, growling again. He pressed his hand against it, frowning, but that only made Jongdae laugh.

 

“Your personal cook isn’t here today again?” He teased, elbowing Baekhyun in the arm. The other just stared at him blankly, but that didn’t break Jongdae’s fun. Not until Baekhyun started sucking on his lower lip, and that was the little gesture that told Jongdae when something was on Baekhyun’s mind. “I heard he got a bit sick, but he’s okay now, I’ve got him on the phone yesterday and he told me he would be at  _ Rain in The Sea _ this evening.”

 

Baekhyun’s eyes blinked in curiosity, waiting for an explanation as to what the Rain in The Sea was. The smile on Jongdae’s lips widened, and a new kind of light appeared in his irises. A light Baekhyun knew more than enough.

 

Jongdae stepped closer to him with a sort of theatrical delicatesse, coming to wrap his arm around Baekhyun’s  shoulder and leaning his head against Baekhyun’s. 

 

“Tonight, we’re going out, my boy.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Give me some chicken, Yeol!” 

 

Seulgi was smacking his arm, and quite hard at that, but the boy only roared in laughter, unbothered by her antics. His eyes didn’t leave the screen, fingers moving with dexterity on the gamepad. Their legs were tangled in such a way that he had her stuck, and the bucket of fried chicken that his mother had made for her was too far of reach for her. She kept making little angry puppy sounds, hoping to reach for the treat, but Chanyeol just flicked her forehead with a sound of desapprobation.

 

“No chicken, Missy Bear.” He scolded. “We said no chicken until you beat me.”

 

On the TV, the Mario Kart tune was playing, their characters waiting on the screen for them to pick which car they would use for their race. He had chosen Rosalina, while Seulgi was playing with Baby Daisy. He found it cute, how her character fitted her. It felt like he was seeing her on the screen.

 

“But you always push me off the cliffs, there’s no way I can win when you’re being unfair like this.” She whined, pursing her lips in a pout, attempting the pity card to get some chicken. “Come on, give it to me or else I’m calling Baekhyun to tell him you have a crush on him.” 

 

Chanyeol was taken aback when she suddenly pulled away, rolling on the floor and fetching her phone out of her pocket, unlocking it to go through her contacts. A screech left him mouth as he threw himself at her, trying to wrestle the phone away from her hold - but she had years of taekwondo under her belt which he was never ready for. 

 

“You’re such a baby!” He whined. “How old are you to do this kind of thing?” He tried to tickle her sides but she only flexed her abs, completely unbothered. 

 

“I’m at the age where you need to eat fried chicken to stay healthy but a certain someone isn’t letting me do so.” She pulled her tongue out at him before she pressed the dial number.

 

“Wait no!” He launched himself at the phone but she managed to switch their position, effectively pinning him on the ground and sitting atop of him. “How did you even get his number?” He whined, flailing his legs hopelessly in the air and grunting for air. She patted him on the head with a honey-sweet smile before she leaned to grab the bucket of chicken, setting it on his back. It was with dumbstruck that he realized what she was doing when he heard the sound of a camera and saw her holding the phone up, taking a selfie of her straddling him with a piece of chicken in her free hand, winking catishly. 

 

“You’re going to pay for this.” He murmured in menace, and Seulgi yelped as she saw his dark gaze. Giggling, she jumped off him, scurrying toward the door of his room. 

 

Chanyeol got on all fours, cursing. He couldn’t get up since he didn’t have his prosthesis on and his crutches were too far away. 

 

“Catch me.” She singsonged, leaning against the door frame and waving at him mockingly.

 

“You, ugly, ugly bear.” He caught a cushion, throwing it at her. “Making fun of handicapped people.” 

 

She rolled her eyes a him, catching the cushion. “We both know you more than anyone don’t like it when we treat you as handicapped person.” She threw the cushion back and Chanyeol barely dodged it. 

 

Seulgi did come back to his side though, and it could be seen on her face that she felt slightly bad. She went to the closet to bring his prosthesis, throwing him his liner. 

 

“Will it be alright?” She asked as she kneeled down beside him, watching him put the liner on his stump. 

 

It was like a sock made for his stump, which Chanyeol liked to call his ‘giant condom’ as he would literally roll it up just like a condom to put it on his stump. This one was made of polyurethane and it served as the link between the stump and the socket - which is the shell that encases the limb and connects it to the prosthesis. It was used as a way to protect the stump and make sure it fits inside of the socket right. With his previous prosthesis which had a lock system, he would adjust it with sockets, which came in different materials and thickness to make sure that the socket would rightly fit. However, Chanyeol’s new liner worked with a suction system which meant that  he had to insert his liner-covered limb into the socket and apply body weight as he would stand to expel excess air through the valve. Seulgi was still used to his old prosthesis, but this one didn’t need socks. He threw them at her playfully, and she realized her mistake. 

 

“Sorry.” She murmured, picking up the bag of socks and going to set it back into the closet. Lady Swing was right beside her so she took the guitar with her and brought it to Chanyeol setting it on the bed where he was sitting, pushing his leg through the socket. 

 

She was about to reach for his hands to help him up but he didn’t even look at her, getting up on his own effortlessly and pressing on his limb so the air would evacuate in a soft farting sound which made him chuckle.

 

Seulgi watched him with fondness in her eyes, feeling a bit silly. She knew Chanyeol was okay - she was just an over worrying bear, as he liked to call her. His stump had healed a bit, since he had taken the week off, not going to class and making sure that his skin would heal enough. He had spent five days without his prosthesis, only using his crutches. Of course he had complained to her since he couldn’t move much this way and had mostly stayed in his room, but it had all been playful banter due to his boredom. 

 

“Are you coming?” Chanyeol asked her when he was done setting his prosthesis on, smiling at her while he settled Lady Swing on his back. “Mom said you had the evening off, you should come.”

 

Seulgi parted her lips, hesitation visible on her features. 

 

“Come on, Seul.” He whined, tugging at her hand. “You need to live a bit, stop working your life away and enjoy yourself. Life is too short to be lived in a boring way.”

 

She bit down on her lower lip, trying to swallow back a smile. Chanyeol was just too adorable, and although she always took care of him, he had his own ways of reminding her that he was the older one and that he could take care of himself and her too.

 

“Okay.” She smiled. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ The Rain in the Sea _ was a small venue where indie bands and artists would perform, and weekends were days when some more well-known bands would be playing. Jongdae had told the story of the venue to Baekhyun who had been left impressed. The venue had opened back in 2016 in  _ Donggyo-dong _ ,  _ Mapo-gu _ . It was a very measly scene, the whole venue not able to hold more than a hundred people. The venue was then welcoming only unknown artists seeking for a scene where to perform after having been pushed out by the commercialism of Hongdae with dreams of success. The motto of the venue was that, whoever wants to be in stage can be on stage - there were no auditions and no screening, everyone was free to perform on Thursday nights. This way, slowly, The Rain in the Sea started spawning many indie bands who had moved up the stairs of stardom all thanks to the support of the tenant, a man known by the nickname of Ujung. However, he was paying the rent at his own expense, and since his goal isn't to make money, he quickly faced a difficult situation. The rent price soared up and quickly enough, the entrance fee wasn’t enough to cover it.

 

The twist was that, in 2017, Ujung was diagnosed with a brain tumor. The costs for medication and surgery were too high, and  _ The Rain and the Sea _ seemed on the verge of going bankrupt, Ujung feeling that he would disappear along with his progeny. 

But it didn’t happen. Life is sometimes made of beautiful happenings that we like to call miracles, and a miracle did happen to Ujung. 

Musicians got together and held a charity concert. Many underground musicians joined the movement, also holding charity markets and street performances. As a result, 137 bands performed during an eleven day long concert, and the money gathered was enough to save The Rain and the Sea, and Ujung along. 

 

The place looked shabby, with narrow staircases and a worn-out wooden stage and a cement floor. There wasn’t any particular decoration, only red brick walls and some worn out posters stuck here and there giving some color to the whole thing, but there wasn’t even enough light to see anything but the stage. Their seats were so close to the stage, to the point that they could feel the wood vibrate under the bass that was being played. But Baekhyun found that he didn’t mind. Sipping on his  _ soju _ , frowning a bit at how bitter the unfamiliar taste felt on his tongue, he let the sound of the guitar guide the beat of his heart, ignoring how stuffed it felt inside of the venue and how crowded it was. Jongdae was sitting beside him, their legs brushing against each other as his friend moved to the music, enjoying himself silently, a bottle of beer in his hand. Maybe it was the story that Jongdae had told him that made him feel that way, but Baekhyun couldn't brush away the feeling of religiosity that he felt was seeping from the red brick walls. It was like a sacred place for music where one just couldn’t not enjoy himself, and slowly, he almost felt at home. 

 

The band was done and people applauded when they exited the stage. However, the cheers became even more powerful all of a sudden, and Baekhyun looked up from his  _ soju _ to see why that was. A gasp left his lips when he saw him. His long curly hair was untied today, and looked like a lion’s mane, wild and untamed around his face, shining like a bronze halo under the spotlights. He was carrying Lady Swing under his arm and walked to the edge of the stage where he placed his little styrofoam cup before walking to the chair that was set in the middle of the stage.

Baekhyun felt like he was dreaming, his eyelids slightly heavy, but he just couldn’t blink from fear that this vision would disappear. Chanyeol was well dressed tonight, ripped dark skinny jeans and a slightly worn out black suit with strips of leather on his elbows and a white tank top underneath that hinted to a well drawn pectoral muscles. There was a wooden cross hanging on a black string that kissed his collarbones and swung as he sat down - Baekhyun just couldn’t get his eyes away from him, and he barely reacted when Jongdae elbowed him.

 

“Ain’t that your personal cook?” He didn’t have to see his friend to know the greasy wink he had just given him. But he couldn’t reply.

 

Chanyeol’s finger moved to the mic which he lowered a bit pressing his lips against it. His voice was usually low, but it sounded even richer, just like dark melted chocolate being poured on a biscuit as he greeted the crowd. Baekhyun shuddered, his fingers digging into his thigh and something churning in his stomach. 

 

“Tonight I will perform  _ Love of My Life _ by Queen.”

 

“This one is for you.” Jongdae murmured in his ear teasingly, but Baekhyun still ignored him, nails scratching on the seam of his jeans. 

 

Chanyeol’s fingers started moving on the strings, plucking them gently, a soft smile of his lips appearing as the first notes breached the air. The gaze he was giving the guitar was one of love, Baekhyun recalled. There was just so much passion oozing from him, like the emotions a mother bear for her child as she would hold it for the first time. His fingers were moving softly like feathers, so gentle and so careful, as if scared to hurt a loved one as he caressed him. Baekhyun licked his lips, eyes unable to look away. His throat felt a bit dry. Chanyeol’s lips moved and he kissed the microphone - and an angel sung. Or he thought it was an angel, the chant heavenly, holding some sort of holy emotion that stirred something deeply into Baekhyun’s heart, as if a flower had burgeoned in his chest and the life that he thought was dead in him had come back, but the english words that rolled from the deep rich voice were definitely Chanyeol’s. Baekhyun felt breathless, like Chanyeol’s voice was the oxygen and he just needed more, and more. The words were so pretty, sung with care. It was like Chanyeol was talking to someone with words dipped in honesty, and his emotions were crushing Baekhyun. He could feel it, he could feel the love, the pining, the heartache that Chanyeol was conveying. That he was expressing his emotions as his eyes were set on only him. Never looking away, Chanyeol stared at him as he sang ‘love of my life’. And Baekhyun couldn’t breathe.

It was like his lifeline had been cut clean in a dry scissor snap when the music ended, and he felt like he was falling freely, before he crashed. 

 

Chanyeol started playing another song, and he was looking away to other members of the audience, but Baekhyun was still stuck in the previous notes, unable to shake off the ghost of emotions that had enveloped his soul and was haunting him. 

 

Chanyeol seemed to have so much fun performing, the time of his life. He seemed to be both inhaling and exhaling the music, as if in a trance that made him glow. Maybe it was the light of the stage, but Baekhyun just couldn’t shake of the vision of an angel. Chanyeol looked just like the angel in Murillo’s painting,  _ Liberation of Saint Peter _ \- with light around him he shone of a golden hue, and Baekhyun felt just like Saint Peter in his prison, overwhelmed seeing the angel offering him his hand to escape for his confinement. He wanted to take this hand too, which was playing on the guitar, take this hand and escape from the prison that was his own life.

 

He let out a shivery sigh as Chanyeol sung the high note of Bon Jovi’s  _ Living on a Prayer  _ acoustic cover _. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

His cup was overflowing with bills again, and it had Chanyeol unable to stop smiling. Waddling through the crowd, he talked to the fans who would accost him. After a good ten minutes, he finally found the table where Sehun and Seulgi were sitting, and was a bit surprised to see that Jongdae and Baekhyun were with them. He cleared his throat as he pulled a chair to himself, taking a seat just in front of Baekhyun who had his head leaned against Jongdae, pouting with the rim of his soju bottle pressed against his lips. 

 

“You were awesome.” Jongdae gave him a thumbs up, Seulgi who was sitting beside him nodding her head fervently in approbation. 

 

Sehun pushed a shot glass in front of him, about to uncap a bottle of soju, but Chanyeol stopped him.

 

“Shouldn’t you celebrate?” Jongdae asked. He gazed down to Baekhyun who was still leaning on him, pouting into his bottle, a frown on his brows and eyes looking nowhere in particular. “This little fella here even accepted to drink for the first time ever. You should join too.” 

 

Baekhyun moved a bit, blinking his eyes as he seemed to realize that Chanyeol was here too, before he went to nuzzle his face against Jongdae’s neck again. 

 

“He never drank?” Chanyeol wondered, a bit surprised. But then he remembered how last time Baekhyun had only drank orange juice when he had celebrated his victory. 

 

“He tries to live healthy. You know, being an athlete and all.” Jongdae shrugged, and that had Baekhyun whine in annoyance from the sudden movement of the surface he was resting upon. “But for some reason he almost jumped on the soju tonight. Not sure what’s up with him.”

 

Chanyeol stared at the duo, worrying his lower lip. It made him think of that time, under the tree, when Baekhyun had napped on his lap after his anxiety attack. 

 

“He just looks so tired. He must have a lot of pressure on is shoulders.” Seulgi whispered as she leaned a bit closer to Jongdae, unaware of the effect she was having on him as she tried to take a better look at Baekhyun. 

 

“I’m pretty sure the one tiring him out is Jongdae.” Sehun interjected before sipping on his grape juice. “Baekhyun’s been sleeping at your place for some days now, you must have done something to him.” 

 

Chanyeol suddenly looked away from Baekhyun’s face, eyes widening as he stared at Jongdae in search for an explanation. “Why was he staying at your place?” He almost sounded jealous. Almost.

 

“Because we’re best pals.” Jongdae said with a perverted smirk as he brought Baekhyun closer to him, his hand drawing sultry lines up and down the sleepy archer’s arm. 

 

“So you  _ are _ gay.” Seulgi beamed with a tone of holy revelation. “I knew it! Since that day when you two were being all touchy at the restaurant. You two are dating!” She seemed so happy about her realization, while Jongdae seemed to be witnessing his soul escaping from his body. “It’s a shame though, that means Chanyeol’s feelings aren’t mutual.” She pouted as she looked over Chanyeol, seemingly geniously concerned. 

 

“Mine aren’t either.” Jongdae cried in his non existing beard, mourning over the fact that Seulgi - his own crush - thought he was gay and had feelings for his best friend. 

 

Their little banter was cut when Baekhyun started jerking in his sleep, emitting low puppy-like noises while his fingers curled around the hem of Jongdae’s. He seemed to be having trouble breathing, his respiration getting choked and heavy, his head kept shaking as if he was trying to fight something off. His fingers were pulling, pulling, clawing at Jongdae’s coat while the puppy sounds had now turned into full on cries as he was about to break down. 

Jongdae was dumbstruck, unmoving as he stared at Baekhyun, completely helpless, hands hovering in the air wondering what to do. It was Chanyeol who reacted first. Springing up his seat, he pulled Baekhyun away from Jongdae’s hold. Securing the archer against him, he slid an arm under his legs and heaved him up. It was a bad idea. He felt the added weight pressing on his stump, and although he  _ could  _ theoretically do such an action, his stump still hadn’t completely healed. But he ignored the pain. With Lady Swing bouncing on his back, he exited the venue, carrying a panting Baekhyun outside.

 

It was a panic attack. Another one. In his sleep. Baekhyun was having a panic attack in his sleep, and the sirens in Chanyeol’s head started ringing loudly, numbing his trail of thoughts and making him act on autopilot.

 

The staircase was narrow and slippery, but the adrenaline of the worry seemed to be giving him a force he hadn’t thought he had in him. Passing by the people who were staring at him in wonder, he pushed the door with his shoulder, gasping.

 

The November air was cold and stinging, making Chanyeol shiver to the toes. He stopped at the corner of the street, at the birth of a small empty alley where there was a block of cement which he used as a seat. It was even colder than the air was, and it seemed that his own tremors were transmitted to Baekhyun. His eyes snapped open violently as he gasped, but he still seemed lost, gaze looking nowhere and tears blurring them and he was still breathing hardly - Chanyeol could feel his erratic heartbeat with the hand he had on the boy’s back. The tears traveled down Baekhyun’s face but he didn’t move. The cries were leaving his lips but he seemed somewhere else, as if not conscious that he was crying, that he had woken up, and that everything was alright. There was a bit of drool on his chin and on the side of his lips, Chanyeol proceeded to wipe it out gently with his finger, but he was surprised when suddenly, Baekhyun grabbed his wrist, holding onto it like one would hold onto dear life - and the he slipped the thumb in his mouth, sucking at it and closing his eyes. Chanyeol didn’t move, body still, barely daring to breathe. He could feel the kitten-like tongue lapping as his digit, tickling him, but also so warm - it made something in his guts churn. Baekhyun’s lips were pink and smeared with saliva, glowing a bit under the lamppost, and his disheveled bangs were covering his now closed eyes which had pearls of tears stuck in the eyelashes. Why he did that, Chanyeol doesn’t know, but he leaned in and kissed the eyelids, brushing the tears away as Baekhyun hummed in his slip, around his digit which he was still sucking on. He seemed to relax gradually, his cries stopping as he curled against Chanyeol and fell back asleep while sucking on the guitarist’s thumb. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

It was the smell of chicken that woke him up. It smelled nice, of ginger and broth that wafted to his nostrils and pulled him out of his dreams. His head felt as if it was stuffed with cotton and his brain was pounding in his skull as he moved his head. He tried to roll on his side, pulling the blanket up to his chin but he didn’t even have the strength to do that, and it felt as if his brain was trying to dig a hole through his skull so he just stopped moving altogether. However, the thirst was real, his tongue feeling like sandpaper against his palate. He really needed to get out of the bed and crawl for water, but the sole move of getting his foot out of the blanket had pain reverberate up his brain and the nausea clog up to his throat, so he just gave up. There was a weird aftertaste in his mouth that only made him feel even more terrible. Baekhyun stayed in his fetal position for a while longer, curled under the blanket, feeling like he was bathed in his sweat and reeking, but he was purely and simply unable to move. 

 

After a while, he was starting to suffocate so he laboriously pulled on the blanket, feeling a bit fresher when air kissed his face. It really smelled nice and that was teasing his curiosity. Without thinking, he screwed his eyelids upon, but immediately regretted it.

 

The light was too strong, making the pain in his skull blast like darts being thrown at his poor brain. It took him a good minute before he didn’t feel blinded and managed to distinguish his surroundings. It was weird. He wasn’t in his room, yet the room didn’t feel unfamiliar. There was something on the floor, just where his gaze was falling at, and he saw something strange. it was like a foot, but oddly yellow, and oddly still. Just a foot. Attached to a bar of metal, and at its end a sort of interesting multicolored cup. It was when his brain processed the information that fear invaded his body as realization hit him - there was a foot just in front of him. He was in an unknown place with a weird  _ foot  _ on the floor. Sitting straight on the bed, he felt the blood rush to his head, dazing him for a few seconds, his ears ringing from the pressure of the blood against his eardrums. The pain made him moan as he clutched his head, trying to stop his brain from bouncing against his skull.

 

“You’re up.” A familiar voice said, and Baekhyun’s head jerked to the side, earning him another pained cry.

 

It was then that he realized Chanyeol had been standing all along by the kitchen counter, cooking. Thus the smell that had woken him up. 

 

Looking down, he slowly understood what was happening, and tried to reminiscence of the previous night, but not all. He remembered that he had gone to _ The Rain in the Sea _ with Jongdae and that he had seen Chanyeol performing. This was when he had decided to order some soju. The rest was pretty much a blur, but the obvious thing now was the pounding headache in his skull making him regret last night’s decisions. He quickly glanced at himself - he was still fully clothed, only his coat was gone, and there was a fluffy blanket wrapped around him. 

 

He licked his lips, they were dry and his tongue was furred. It tasted of vomit too - that thought made him shiver in disgust. He didn’t have the chance to ask for a glass of water, since Chanyeol brought him one, with an aspirin too.

 

“Jongdae told me it was your first time drinking.” He whispered gently, probably aware that speaking any louder would have Baekhyun shriek in pain. 

 

The archer grabbed the glass and the painkiller, thanking Chanyeol with just a shy bow of his head - but he regretted that decision too. He heard Chanyeol chuckle.

 

“I made you seaweed soup, and I also heated up some ginger stuffed chicken and cooked some rice. There’s some kimchi too, come to the table when you feel like it.” 

 

Baekhyun didn’t reply, only putting the aspirin on his tongue and bringing the glass of water to his lips. He was trying hard to remember what had happened yesterday, but it was just a complete blur. Maybe he had done crazy things like stealing a motorbike and going skinny dipping in the Han river, he had no fuming idea. Also, he couldn’t really find it in himself to focus, his eyes always constantly going back to the foot on the floor. Now that his mind was a bit clearer, he had managed to identify the foot as a prosthesis. He had also noticed that there wasn’t just one, there was another one of a bit different style, just like the ones the runners had during the Paralympics. Probably a running prosthesis, he guessed.

What he couldn’t guess though was, why did Chanyeol have prosthesis at his studio? 

 

It was as if Chanyeol could read his mind.

 

“Oh, you’re looking at my babies!” The guitarist purred proudly as he walked to said prosthesis. He was still limping, maybe a bit more than last night, Baekhyun noted. 

 

Chanyeol bent down to pick them up, dusting them off with a small smile that only he knew the meaning of. 

 

“This one's name is Achilles.” He said as he held up the one with the multicolored cup. “You know, like in Greek mythology, Achilles’ heel, his deadly weakness.” Chanyeol pursed his lips cheshirely, before shrugging his shoulders and swinging the prosthesis like a twirler would swing their baton. “In the end I guess I chose the name right. This thing was hurting like a butt.” He huffed, and it could be felt in his voice that there were war flashbacks of hard experiences going through his head as he stared at the metallic leg. “And now this one.” He presented, holding up the running prosthesis. “Her name’s Lucille. It rhymes.” He winked. “She's a sweetie pie.” He added with the voice of a proud dad before he kissed the both of them before walking to the bed and storing them underneath. Then, he pulled at the sleeve of his sweatpants and revealed his leg.

 

Baekhyun held his breath. At first, he blinked, not sure if it was the alcohol in his system that was making him see things - also the pounding headache wasn’t helping - but then he realized that it was real. There was the knee, and then the birth of a calf, some white skin shown before it disappeared hugged by a cup, just like the one all the other prosthesis had, but this one is beige and not multicolored. The prolongation consisted of a metallic bar which ended into a flesh colored foot that was covered with a sock. 

He couldn’t breath. His fingers were gripping at the blanket and he was aware that he hadn’t blinked for too long, his eyes were stinging but he just couldn’t close them. 

 

Never. He had never noticed that Chanyeol was missing a leg. Never.

How could he, when Chanyeol always smiled in such a carefree manner, always beaming like a ray of sunshine, laughing as if the world was a peaceful place and like he had no worries on his mind. He would cycle on that old rusty prehistoric Django-thing up the hills daily like it was no biggie, and he would always be there when Baekhyun felt like he was crumbling.

 

Yet, Baekhyun hadn’t noticed that Chanyeol had been through his own share of misfortunes, to the point that he had even found himself  _ envying _ him.

 

And that, that realization made him feel  _ awful _ .

 

When Chanyeol looked up, he noticed that Baekhyun was giving him a weird look.

 

“Hey, I know this look.” Chanyeol held up his index, startling Baekhyun. He then proceeded to cross his arms over his chest, leaning against the closest wall “Listen, being an amputee is cool, really, no need for pity.” He said waving his hand as if to brush something off. He sounded so honest, playful and carefree like always. “I mean, I'm a half cyborg!” He exclaimed. “In ten years from now my leg will be able to shoot lasers and you, humans, will be crushed by the almighty amputees.” He chuckled as he said it, holding his leg up in a way that needed more suppleness than Baekhyun thought Chanyeol had, and he pulled his pant sleeve up again, taking a hold of his prosthesis like one would hold a rifle. “Georgina and I will take over the world, just watch and see!” He then started making little  _ “pew! pew!” _ sounds, as if he was shooting Baekhyun. The latter cracked a smile, letting out a chuckle too.

 

“Oh, it wasn't pity.” Baekhyun said nonchalantly, raising a brow and massaging his temple. His voice was a bit more slurred than he would have liked it to be, but his tongue still felt too dry. “I was just speechless at how you always choose the most ridiculous names for every single object.” He teased as he scratched the tip of his nose. “Dumbo Reynolds is by far the worst.” He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, but that move hurt and he shuddered in pain. 

 

Chanyeol stared at him flabbergasted, as if he had just gotten a punch, still holding his leg up. 

 

“Okay wait a sec,” He declared very seriously, “I  _ really  _ ought to tell you  _ who _ Django Reinhardt  _ is _ .” He sounded like a drama queen, stressing on some of his words and taking a bourgeois accent of some sorts. 

 

Baekhyun chuckled again, shaking his head in mock despair but immediately stopping when he remembered the state he was in. Slowly, he crawled out of the bed, setting himself by the table, panting as if he had climbed down a mountain, and not just some kid-sized bed. He felt both hot and cold at the same time, and his only wish was to slam his forehead against the table and maybe see if that would make the pain subside. He didn’t try, though. Chanyeol was quick to bring the dishes on the table, setting two bowls, spoons and chopsticks for them both before he plopped down in front of Baekhyun, looking deadly serious. 

 

“Django Reinhardt is probably the most brilliant guitarist there ever was on the planet.” He started very vehemently as the poured some seaweed  _ haejangguk _ to Baekhyun. It was a recipe often made for hangovers, his mother had taught him how to do it and he took some pride into his cooking skills, to be honest. He placed the bowl in front of Baekhyun, the pieces of cabbage twirling in the broth in the process. “Enjoy.” He pushed the rice towards Baekhyun who looked at it without much appetite, yet he picked up his spoon, gathering some rice to drown it into his  _ haejangguk _ . 

 

“So here, listen to this.” Chanyeol fetched out his phone, fumbling a bit with it before a song started to play. Baekhyun frowned, wincing a bit at the sound, but Chanyeol didn’t seem to realize.

 

“This one is called  _ September Song _ .” He was shimmying on his seat as he placed the phone on the table, the tune slowly starting to fill the room. “It is so smooth, you have no idea. Just like cashmere under the touch, but it is actually quite tricky to play on the guitar.” He nodded to himself, lips puckered in an adorable pout, he sounded as if he was defending human rights. Baekhyun would have liked to argue that at the moment, it only sounded like a hammer hitting his skull, but he refrained from doing so. The song wasn’t actually bad, he was just hungover, really. “And you know what’s even more incredible? He actually lost the use of two fingers on his left hand - his pinky and his ring finger. He was already a renowned guitarist back then and yet, that didn’t prevent him from playing on. It even gave him a particular playing style, and it was said that many of his fans actually burned their hands to try to reproduce his style.” There were stars in his eyes as he said it, and he was even clapping, as if applauding the since-long deceased guitarist. “I kinda aspire to be like him. You know, he would often disappear. He was renowned, but sometimes it was just like that -  _ phew _ \- gone. He didn’t do it because he was pretentious or whatnot. It was just a state of mind. He wasn’t considering himself as a musician, he only played music as an art of living. I wish I could do that too someday - vanishing like that.  _ Phew _ . Gone.”

 

He was speaking fast, moving fast, and there seemed to be just so much enthusiasm in his voice as he spoke, just like a little kid speaking about the gifts he had gotten during  _ Eorininal _ , Children's Day - Baekhyun found this admirable, he found himself listening with his chin pressed on his hand, a smile he just couldn’t brush off his lips although he wasn’t feeling so well, Chanyeol’s joy was just that contagious.

 

“Oh! Oh!” Chanyeol suddenly started flailing his hands excitedly, startling Baekhyun in the process who screwed his eyes shut in the increased headache. “This one is called  _ Swinging with Django _ , listen.” Baekhyun inhaled deeply, opening his eyes back as he leaned closer to the phone, just as Chanyeol did, like it was some sort of religious chant that was coming out of the device. However, Chanyeol was just too enthusiastic to be sharing his love for Django Reinhardt that he spoke again, preventing Baekhyun from really hearing the music - not that he minded, though. “Did you know that he actually had a guitar called Lady Swing? That’s why my baby is called Lady Swing too.” He beamed, and Baekhyun was just lost in the contemplation of so much happiness.  

 

His seaweed soup was getting cold in front of him, but he didn’t mind. The music was nice, it had something soothing to it, and he found out that it didn’t bother him despite  the buzz of his headache. 

It was beautiful, the passion Chanyeol was showing. It made him dazzled to think that Chanyeol could hold and express so much happiness, despite the terrible things he had gone through in life. It made Baekhyun think. The passion Chanyeol expressed, he wasn’t sure he even showed half the amount when he was holding his bow. The reason why he had started archery was blurry to him now, he knew why he was keeping up with it, but was it really his passion, or just a habit? He wasn’t sure.

As the notes wafted through the air, his gaze got lost on the walls where the pictures and medals were hung. He wondered. He was curious as to what had happened to Chanyeol, but asking just didn’t feel right. 

 

“I used to be on my high school baseball team.” Chanyeol’s voice suddenly cut his train of thoughts, startling Baekhyun yet again. As he looked back to the guitarist, he saw that he was resting his chin on his knees, hugging the limbs to his chest as his gaze was lost in contemplation of the pictures too. There was fondness in his eyes, maybe a tad bit of nostalgia too, but Baekhyun wasn’t sure. “Back then, my dream was to be a professional player. But then this happened,” he said as he patted his prosthesis, “and my dream went away with my leg. But it was okay. It was hard in the beginning, but I learnt to make it okay. Life is full of opportunities, and I found love again in music and guitar. I am happy where I am today, and I don’t have any regrets or remorse.” He was speaking softly, and it sounded to Baekhyun’s ears just like a lullaby, the notes of the guitar getting into perfect harmony, carrying Chanyeol’s voice with a sort of melodious lightness. 

 

And those words, they rang into Baekhyun’s chest. Curling his fingers into a fist, he wondered. If he had to lose the use of his hand - what would happen to him?

The sole thought of it gave him a frightening shiver. He quickly uncurled his fingers, shaking his head.

 

It couldn’t happen. It just couldn’t happen. 

 

Archery was all he was. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Baekhyun had went back to bed. Chanyeol had advised him to do so, saying he didn’t mind company, and that Baekhyun needed some more rest. So there he was curled under the fuzzy blanket again, holding it up to his chin as his eyes were travelling on the pictures and medals that were hanging on the wall next to him. He found it ironical that Chanyeol still had all these memories on his wall. To him, they were like the relics of a dead dream, like a painful scar that he didn’t try to hide, and only forced himself to remember it was there. 

Chanyeol was sitting on the edge of the bed at his feet, Lady Swing on his lap, he was strumming the strings gently, playing what sounded like lullabies Baekhyun couldn’t recognize. 

 

“Say.” His voice was still slurred, and he coughed to clear it but it only echoed painfully in his head, making him wince. “What happened yesterday?” He asked in a small voice. 

 

Chanyeol’s fingers stopped flat on the strings, making them all vibrate for a few seconds as he looked to Baekhyun’s direction. “You don’t remember?”

 

Baekhyun worried his lower lip between his teeth, humming. Chanyeol smiled a small smile, shimmying himself to seat straighter against the wall, his knee hitting the body of the guitar which made an empty sound. 

 

“Did I do anything weird?” Baekhyun’s eyes widened as worry began to fill him, but Chanyeol only smiled more, and his cheek seemed to gather some pink dust.

 

“Nah. You’re actually a sleepy drunk.” He said gently as his gaze travelled to Baekhyun, soft and somehow holding fondness than had Baekhyun’s heart constrict a bit. “You were already falling asleep when I joined you, you were curled against Jongdae.” Chanyeol nodded, gathering his memories. “He said something about how you were supposed to go home that day but that your mother shouldn’t see you in this state. Thus I brought you here, since I live closer.”

 

Baekhyun stared at him for a while, giving the time for his fuzzy head to process the information. He grabbed the water bottle that Chanyeol had set beside him, taking a sip just so his tongue wouldn’t feel as raspy as he tried to talk. 

 

“So you hosted a stranger just because they didn’t have the guts to appear home drunk?” He asked slowly, without bite in his voice, just incomprehension. Chanyeol stared at him for a while, gaze heavy and a bit dark. There seemed to be a lot in his irises, but they were just like a maelstrom which Baekhyun simply couldn't read. It frightened him a bit, to see so many things - he wished he could know what was going through Chanyeol’s head. 

 

“You’re no stranger, Byun Baekhyun.” He said in a low voice, slowly, eyes never looking away from Baekhyun’s who held his breath. “I might not know you like Jongdae does, but I know you in my own way. And since we’re friends, I want to know you even more.”

 

“In your own way? What’s that?”

 

“I know for example that you like eating a lot, especially warm meals when it’s cold outside. You tend to like warming your hands against the plate before starting to eat.” He started as he pointed his index to the archer’s digits holding the bowl. “You have this oral fixation, which makes it that you’re always touching your lips when you can, be it with your fingers, or by pressing the spoon against your lips when you’re munching on your food.” Baekhyun’s hand immediately went to his lips when he heard that - he had never realized that he was doing it, but now he did. Chanyeol was right. He held his breath, feeling a slight blush creep up his cheeks. Chanyeol leaned in a bit closer, his dark pupils plunging deeper into Baekhyun, as if he was reading the lines of his words on the timid brownish nuances of Baekhyun’s irises. “Now I also know that you you make little puppy noises when you sleep and you tend to sleep in a fetal position, hugging all the blanket to yourself, and when there’s no blanket you still seek for something warm to hold on. Ah, and you have terrible music tastes and you like bullying Django. Wow I made you sound like a loser. Schnitzel.”

 

What he didn’t bother saying was that he could read some of Baekhyun’s heart. He could read that Baekhyun had a resounding lack of self-esteem.  _ You’re very well liked _ , he omitted to say, _ but you don’t realize the love and admiration people have for you and when someone goes to you, you tend to push them away because you just don’t know how to accept love _ , he prevented himself from whispering against the shell of his ear. It was too much intimacy for now. He would keep it for himself, like a sort of little diary where he would write all the small little things that made Baekhyun who he was, and that made him fall a little bit more every time for the handsome archer.

 

“What’s ‘schnitzel’?” Baekhyun cut his train of thoughts. He was wearing a frown on his face.

 

Chanyeol bit back a grin. “A German dish.” But Baekhyun only tilted his head in bewilderment.

 

“The heck?”

 

Chanyeol decided to give him some space again, his body going to lean against the wall, legs sliding off the mattress and dangling freely. Baekhyun watched how only one foot was really moving, the other one static, plastic-like.

 

“I don’t know,” Chanyeol shrugged in a small voice wrapped up in a veil of nostalgia. He leaned his chin against the body of his guitar, smacking his lips before he smiled. “There was this person I really looked up too that hated swear words,” he explained, nodding to himself as if he was approving of the veracity of his memories, “she would always use some other weird words instead, and scold us when we would swear, so we started imitating her because,  _ Mother gracious _ , she knew how to hit hard.” A chuckle. “I guess it just stuck.”

 

Baekhyun watched hm. Baekhyun watched how there was something to Chanyeol’s eyes, something to his large, mysterious eyes that radiated of fondness and showed how much  _ this person _ meant - or had meant - to him. It seized him in the chest, hard. Like he was stepping in some foreign territory where he didn’t belong. It was Chanyeol’s secret garden and there was no place for him there. He decided to leave.

 

“So I didn’t go skinny dipping in the Han river last night?” He pouted, realizing that he was pressing the tip on his index against his lower lip. He immediately took it away, pressing his palm flat against his thigh, almost slapping it. The alcohol was still making his movements a bit uncontrolled. Chanyeol beside him was watching him with round eyes.

 

“What? No?” He then burst into a boisterous chuckle, seeing how disappointed Baekhyun was making it just too hilarious. 

 

“A shame.” He sighed wistfully. “I always thought that if I got drunk, I should at least use it as an opportunity to accomplish something.”

 

“So skinny dipping is an accomplishment to you?” Chanyeol was trying not to laugh, really. His cheeks hurt.

 

“Well, it would probably be the craziest thing I’ve ever done in my life.” Baekhyun shrugged. “You know, when you’re stuck most of your time in an archery room you kinda miss on some stuff of life. I’ve never been to a noraebang.” He nodded to himself. He had said it so flatly, like he was merely saying that he hadn’t eaten any fruit today, or something as casual as that. Chanyeol was taken aback.

 

“Oh grape.” He distanced himself a bit from Baekhyun, trying to get a better look of the archer. “We should really fix this.” He said as the outrage could be felt in his voice - it had Baekhyun smirk, eyes turning into little crescents. “Let’s go on a date!”

 

Baekhyun thought his neck had snapped considering how fast his head turned so he could face Chanyeol, his irises trembling. He could feel the blush on the birth of his neck, just above his collarbone. He could feel his heart constricted in his chest, as if it was beating wildly in a very small box. He exhaled shakily.

 

“What?” His voice came out drier than he wished it too, almost as if he was annoyed. It wasn’t that, though.

 

“I want to bring you to the noraebang.” Chanyeol said with a smile again.

 

Baekhyun immediately eased, feeling the air come back into his lungs, his blood flowing at a normal speed again. Chanyeol hadn’t said ‘date’ again. It was all Baekhyun’s misinterpretation. Of course Chanyeol hadn’t meant a date - he had probably just used the wrong word for a hang out. 

 

“We should do that.”

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

It was under the soft strums of Chanyeol’s guitar that Baekhyun’s eyelids succumbed to the weight of tiredness and that sleep enveloping him. With the fuzzy blanket pulled to his nose, he looked so small, cocooned. It had Chanyeol chuckle. Discreetly as to not wake the tired boy up, he shifted, getting off the bed and sitting down next to Baekhyun. He gently tried to pull on the blanket, just to make sure that Baekhyun wasn’t suffocating himself, however, the little displeased puppy whine that came from the archer’s lips and the frown that appeared between his brows was enough of a hint for Chanyeol to understand the sleeping one didn’t like it. So he let go of the blanket, and on the way, his fingers somehow found their way to Baekhyun’s forehead, pushing away the strands of hair that were falling into his eyes. With the very tip of his finger, Chanyeol tried to push them aside, combing them back. They were soft, he mused to himself, and Baekhyun seemed to be leaning into the touch. Leaning his head against his arm which was resting on the mattress, his head just facing Baekhyun’s sleeping one, he let his fingers continue to fiddle with Baekhyun’s locks. Gently, gently, he combed them between his index and thumb, appreciating how silky the strands felt against his skin. 

 

It was like this that he noticed the way Baekhyun’s eyelids drooped to the ends even when closed, and that he noticed the very faint freckles that adorned the bridge of his nose, like the little spots that you could see on the petals of a sunflower when they would bathe for a tad too long under the sunlight. He counted them, there were seven of them. One for each day to be kissed, he thought with a small sigh. 

 

It was like this, with innocent yet audacious thoughts like this that he fell into Morpheus’ embrace too, his hand fallen on top of Baekhyun’s one - the one that was curled around the blanket. 

 

It was like this that Chanyeol got the first good sleep in a long while. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When he parted his eyelids, the first this he saw was melting dark chocolate flowing before his eyes. Right on the bed sheets, it was like it had melted into a small waterfall - ebony curls of hair spilled on the white fabric. Alabaster skin was shadowed by the locks, and fluffy lashes where casting shadows on soft cheeks that were resting on the mattress. Chanyeol had a subtle mole on the tip of his nose - Baekhyun’s mind was still blurred by sleepiness, situating itself somewhere between dream and consciousness, somewhere unclear yet pleasant. It was a smooth, supple curve under the pad of his thumb, the rest of his fingers going to rest on the sleep-heated cheek, their very tip grazing the brown-golden thread of hair. Chanyeol’s sigh was what pulled him completely out of his dazed state, and he realized that he was wide awake, and effectively touching a sleeping Chanyeol. He quickly pulled his hand away, about to sit up, but then he realized that there was a weight on his hand - Chanyeol’s hand was holding it. 

He took a moment, observing it, with his irises following the curves and dips of his knuckles, wondering how they would feel under his fingers. But he pulled his hand away, getting up from the bed.

 

Since he couldn’t carry Chanyeol into it, he just pulled at the fuzzy blanket, wrapping the guitarist inside, hoping that would be enough so he wouldn’t get sick from sleeping on the floor like this. 

 

It felt like he was a fugitive, he thought as he was bathed by the neon streetlights. A fugitive running from his true self, and going back to the prison he belonged to. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Silence. It was silence that welcomed him as he entered the house and walked past the kitchen where his mother was, tapping on her laptop’s keyboard, as usual. She merely looked up and leaned into the backrest of her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, saying nothing. Staring. Just staring at him.

What was she seeing, he wondered. But he didn’t want to know, for he was pretty sure he knew the sort of answer he would get. 

The silence was overbearing, and it said more than any words would have. It hurt more, the way she was staring at him, so disappointed and so disgusted. 

 

“I hope you practised well.”

 

He felt like puking.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“I’m so, so, so, so so excited, goodness gracious, I feel like my heart is going to leap from my chest.” Chanyeol said as he was clutching it, and there was just so much worries written on his face, his lips were pursed into a pout and the frown was deep between his eyebrows, eyes shimmering like ones of a puppy. “But what if it goes wrong?” He wiggled, shaking his head. “What if he doesn’t like it?”

 

Seulgi, who was patting down his frazzled hair had a hard time not laughing. Chanyeol was older than her, but in moments like this, she always wondered if it was true. Chanyeol had always been like this, never one to hide his worries to her, and always breaking the walls to make sure she could see him for real and be there for him. But that was only for the meaningless things of his everyday life - and she new that. She knew that, although Chanyeol always tried to conceal it behind a strong facade, he would always hide his deepest worries. She was happy he trusted him enough for these kind of things though. It was what made them close.

 

“How wouldn’t he like it? No one can not like a nice evening in your sunny company.” She said gently, poking his forehead. 

 

He had his head on her lap, and was looking up at her, but he hid his face behind his hands, biting down on his lower lip. “But?” He pouted, whining like a child before he sighed. 

 

“Hey, Yeol.” She cupped his face between her hands, smiling down at him. “It’s not like you don’t have any experience, right? Should I remind you how your first kiss went?” She smirked, and there was the glint of the devil in her pupils. She sure liked this story.

 

“Don’t!” Chanyeol hid his face again before burying his nose in her stomach and making sure he would tickle her. She had firm abs though, it was hard. She just slapped him on the arm, making him shriek. 

 

“You were happy with my sister, despite all that happened. So there’s no reason it wouldn’t work this time. You just need to trust yourself a bit more.” She whispered gently, combing back his curls with her fingers. 

 

Chanyeol’s lips turned into a thin, wide line before the lower one disappeared between his teeth, and he sighed wistfully, eyes blurred in the veil of fond memories that had turned sour, yet he couldn’t help but cherish. 

 

“It was a beautiful love story, yeah.” He breathed, eyes not looking anywhere precise, just lost somewhere in the past. 

 

“It was.” Seulgi cupped his face again and forced him to look her in the eyes. “But Yeol, it’s not because you had one beautiful love story that the next ones can’t be as stunning.” Her thumb was caressing his cheekbone gently, making him shudder.

 

“But that one was special.” He whispered as he hugged his shoulders, curling himself up a bit closer to the girl who was holding him.

 

“It was.” She agreed. “What you had with Seulbin was special because she was your first love, and first loves always hold a special place in our hearts.” There was the small birth of a smile pulling on the corner of her lips, but it was mainly melancholic, maybe a bit of sadness. She was so beautiful. “But now you should let yourself love again.” She sighed. “Fully.” Chanyeol was biting on his lips again, looking down, and her hands went to cover his eyes - he exhaled deeply, a bit shakily. “What happened with Seulbin is tragic, but you should let yourself look around for the next person to whom you will be able to give all the love you have in yourself.” She said as she patted that place, on his chest, just where his heart was.

 

He caught the hand and brought it back on his face, covering his eyes with it and exhaling deeply, deeply as if he had inhaled all the world’s worries into his chest. He was trembling.

 

“But I’m a mess.” His voice was like a breath, almost inaudible, raspy and tangled with pain - pain and so much fear. “I’m a disaster about to blow up.” His voice cracked, and on her palm, Seulgi could feel how he was screwing his eyes shut, the lashes rubbing against the skin and tickling it. They were slightly humid. “I’ve been on the other side. I’ve been the one that has gotten hit by the blow, and I know how damn much it  hurts.” He inhaled through his nose, before saying in a broken whisper. “I can’t impose this to someone.”

 

“Hey,” Seulgi had a little scolding tone, but it was still an understanding one, “do you regret having what you had with Seulbin?” There was a pause during which Chanyeol sighed lengthily, and after that, he chewed on his lips - then finally shook his head no, still not revealing his face. “She gave you happy moments too, right? She gave you moments that you can look back to and smile at.”

 

“She did.” He finally pulled on Seulgi’s hand, revealing slightly red and humid eyes “I wouldn’t replace them for nothing in the world.”

 

“Then there you go. Give him happy moments too. Happy moments he will never even think of regretting to have had.”

  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  


The sky seemed to be bleeding as the sunlight sashayed through the thick clouds of pollution, its rays coloring the toxic particles of crimson and magenta hues, a disk of a blurry neon orange behind the clouds, similar to a squashed orange. It had a sort of apocalyptic feeling to it, and Chanyeol felt small as he watched the sun setting, his breath creating puffs of mist in front of him in a regular rhythm, his back pressed against a lamp post as he waited with his hands dug into his pockets. 

Baekhyun was late, but he didn’t mind. The sound of the cars passing by was lulling him, and the cold which was biting him helped him ease a bit. 

He was nervous. There was no reason to - although he had called this a date, he knew it was nothing of the sort for Baekhyun. It was just a simple friendly outing. He knew better than let his expectations blossom to much, for the withered petals fallen out of the disappointment in his soul would have washed over the secret garden in his heart and would have choked him up. It was never good to have too many expectations. 

 

Suddenly, he saw Baekhyun. The archer was running towards him, a cloud of mist following him, filtering from his lips. His bangs were mussed up, partly covering his eyes, his cheeks were blossoming with rose buds, all flushed. Chanyeol hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath to gaze upon Baekhyun until the young man stopped in front of him, palms pressed against his knees as he tried to regain his breath.

 

“Sorry for being late.” Baekhyun whispered airily.

 

He was wearing jeans. Skinny light ripped jeans clinging tightly to his legs that gave away hints of his thighs and knees in a way that had Chanyeol want to slip his fingers through the threads of the ripped fabric and caress them with the pad of his digits, feel the skin against the skin, savor the feeling. He suddenly got attacked by a coughing fit. The sound was astounding, as if something was clogging up his airways - the sound of a thunderstorm echoing in a cavern, rolling against the rocks and crashing on the walls with a foreboding effect. 

 

“You should have waited inside.” Baekhyun said as he patted Chanyeol on the back, trying to ease him a bit. “I wouldn’t want you to get a cold because of me.” He had a slight pout to the curve of his lips. Chanyeol inhaled hard, trying to calm down.

 

“I’m fine.” He smiled, swallowing back the lump in his throat. It hurt a bit, but he was fine. “Shall we?” He moved his head toward the entrance of the restaurant.

 

It was a small barbecue restaurant situated in a cranky cement-walled basement, only a few small dormers acting as windows and permitting the customers to see the feet of the passersby - the downside was that it would often get stuffy inside and the smell of cooked meat had impregnated the walls and furniture, but no one ever complained about that. The food was nice and the ambiance as so. It was one of Chanyeol’s favorite spots. The owner was a great fan of Queen, and Radiohead, just as he preferred his music, and sometimes he would let him perform in exchange of free meals. He was fond of Chanyeol’s little cup and was supportive of the cause he was gathering money for. 

 

They walked towards a free table. Baekhyun seemed to be inspecting the surroundings, his eyes darting everywhere in wonderment, his lips forming a small circle shape. Chanyeol tried not to stare too long at them. 

 

“You’ve never had barbecue?” Chanyeol asked as he pulled a chair to himself, the wood crying against the cement floor.

 

Baekhyun looked up to him with a startled look before he chewed on his lower lip, index going to caress it. He waited a few seconds, seating himself down, before replying.

 

“I have…” He seemed to hesitate. “Just not like this, I guess.”

 

Chanyeol didn’t add anything to that. He understood the underlying statement. It was a given that Baekhyun’s family had money. Archery was a sport practiced in South Korea by only a few, an elitist sport that only the ones who were given the chance to be acquainted with a bow could go for - and that chance mostly belonged to only the wealthiest. 

Wealthy people also wouldn’t go in such a measly restaurant. 

 

It made Chanyeol feel self-conscious for a few seconds. What was he doing bringing someone like Baekhyun in such a place. What was he even thinking by hoping he could have any chances with the guy. They clearly didn’t belong to the same category - and the reasons to why seemed endless. However, he quickly pushed those somber thoughts aside. Baekhyun wasn’t the type to hold such judgements, and anyway, Chanyeol had agreed to show Baekhyun all the things he had missed on exactly because of this status of his. It was his chivalrous duty to do this, so he had no reason to reconsider his choice. 

 

“The most important thing before going to a _ noraebang  _ is to eat yourself to death and drink a lot!” Chanyeol said with vehement excitement, bumping his fist to the table, eliciting an amused and perhaps slightly excited smile from Baekhyun.

 

“I’m all for that.” He grinned, and his eyes were gleaming like the moon shining through the small windows, beaming and seeping bloody colored rays into Chanyeol’s heart, filling it with something he preferred not to name. “Although I beg of you, hold me back on the liquor if you see me going overboard.”

 

“Have no worries.” Chanyeol winked. “I want you to have fun tonight, I won’t let you drink yourself to sleep.” Baekhyun rolled his eyes at that, still feeling the sting of shame at the thought that he had allowed himself to stoop so low. “Now, I need to explain something to you.”

 

Chanyeol suddenly turned very serious, his face going stern as he straightened himself on his chair. Baekhyun unconsciously did the same, feeling a bit apprehensive about what was to come. 

 

“There is a sacred way of proceeding when you eat in such restaurants.” Chanyeol started in a solemn voice, Baekhyun holding his breath and hanging to his words like they were the law being recited by a prosecutor. “I call it the BFN.” He said with the voice of a professor, both palms pressed flatly on the surface of the table, his body leaning forward a bit.

 

“BFN?” Baekhyun leaned in too, frowning as he tried to understand.

 

“Barbecue - Fried rice -  _ Naengmyeon _ . BFN. It is the order to follow if you want to make the best of the food that is proposed to you. Basically, how to eat the most without getting full too soon.” Chanyeol said with a nod asking silently if Baekhyun had understood. The archer nodded back with gravity. “We first start with unmarinated meat.”

 

And BFN they did. As the plate of various meats was disposed on the table, Baekhyun watched with stars in his eyes, very focused, how Chanyeol proceeded to cut the pieces of pork belly and beef tenderloin onto the little grill that was built into the center of the table. As soon as the pieces would fall on the hot surface, they would sweat and emit a tender crackling sound, the nice smell of cooked meat soon wafting to their noses and making them both salivate. 

 

“This is how you do it.” 

 

Chanyeol proceeded to pick the first piece of beef that seemed cooked enough, disposing it in the center of a salad leaf to which he added some kimchi cabbage before wrapping it. Baekhyun was surprised when the wrapped meat was presented to him, Chanyeol holding it for him to bite into.

 

“Come on, your first authentic barbecue wrap.” He said with a smile, wiggling the meat in front of Baekhyun’s mouth.

 

Shyly, the archer parted his lips, and Chanyeol fed him the wrap. He had taken it all in one go, his cheeks full making him seem like a squirrel as he chewed on it. Chanyeol was waiting expectantly for a reaction, which came as soon as Baekhyun had managed to swallow.

 

“A bliss.” He moaned, trying to cover his mouth but Chanyeol didn’t miss how there was some of the baechu-kimchi sauce on the corner of his lips, like a red strike above pink ribbons. 

 

“Now your turn.” Chanyeol said with a charming smile as he mentioned to the grill for Baekhyun to make his own wrap.

 

And the archer mimicked all of Chanyeol’s gestures, putting extra care in his movements, as if he was in the process of making a masterpiece. He had put a bit too much kimchi, some of the sauce oozing out of the wrap, but the whole thing looked good.

 

“You can eat it.” Chanyeol said. “There’s no better taste than the one of your first barbecue wrap.”

 

And like this, they proceeded to eat. Baekhyun would always put so much care in each of his wraps, taking his time to make sure that the meat was well disposed, that there was just enough kimchi - sometimes adding mushrooms that they had grilled too, and then never forgetting to slowly eat to make sure to take the most advantage of the delightful taste that oozed from the treat.

Chanyeol was faster, having more experience in the art of barbecue wrapping, he would make them for both himself and Baekhyun, sometimes feeding the archer while he would be placing the ingredients on his salad. It was like a rhythm had settled between them, Chanyeol feeding Baekhyun, then himself, while Baekhyun made sure to slowly conceive the most beautiful wraps. After they were done with the unmarinated meat, they ordered some marinated bulgogi, which was brought to them by a pretty lady which Chanyeol had already chatted up on his previous escapades in this restaurant. Her name was Bae Joohyun, he recalled.

Bae Joohyun, whose attention seemed to linger quite long on a completely oblivious Baekhyun. It had Chanyeol smile. 

 

The dash of sauce was still there on the corner of Baekhyun’s lips. It was of a bright red that always pulled on Chanyeol’s attention, his eyes always falling on the crimson spot. At some point, Baekhyun was talking of something, Chanyeol had completely zoned out. His hand moved on its own and reached for the culprit, his thumb going for it, brushing the sauce away.

 

Baekhyun was startled by the sudden touch. The finger landed on the corner of his lips, resting there for a bit as their eyes met - like time had frozen and it’s line prolonged into a never-ending one stuck above all the other timelines, making them infinite as they gazed in each other soul. The finger then slid a bit, grazing at the birth of his lips, and the infinity was broken when it suddenly vanished, leaving Baekhyun with a tingling feeling on his flesh, and a wildly beating heart.

 

“I think Bae Joohyun likes you quite a bit.” Chanyeol said with a smirk, leaning back into his chair.

 

Baekhyun took a napkin to brush his lips clean. Chanyeol didn’t miss the way his tongue went to glaze the pinkish flesh, nor the way Baekhyun’s eyes turned a few shades darker.

 

“I don’t think so.” He simply said with a shrug, taking the grill tongs to flip the  _ bulgogi _ .

 

“She was literally eating you up with her gaze!” Chanyeol was flabbergasted at how oblivious Baekhyun could get. “She’s totally a hottie, you should try talking to her when she comes back with our fried rice.” 

 

Baekhyun seemed to be squirming on his seat, fixing the empty plate in front of him and munching on his lower lip again. The words were hanging on it and he considered for some time if he should let them out or not. The fact that Chanyeol nudged him with his foot in the ankle made him speak.

 

“I thought you liked men.” He whispered as he took a leaf of salad and started placing some kimchi on it.

 

Chanyeol blinked at that. He hadn’t expected this. He let himself smile after some seconds though. Taking the grill tongs, he flipped the rest of the  _ bulgogi _ . 

 

“I like everything.” He said calmly. There seemed to be a bit of shyness in his voice, or so Baekhyun thought, he wasn’t exactly quite sure what emotion Chanyeol was bearing as he spoke. “I’m pansexual.” He shrugged before setting the cooked bulgogi into the plate in front of them. Baekhyun took a piece of it, placing it on the kimchi in the center of his salad leaf. He then started wrapping the whole thing very carefully. His fingers are beautiful, Chanyeol thought as he watched the way they tried to smooth the creases of the salad as he folded it.

 

“She…” Baekhyun licked his lips before smacking them. “She isn’t my type.” He said gently, but there was a tone of finality that seemed to give more meaning to the words than they seemed to have.

 

The wrapped  _ bulgogi _ was discreetly placed on Chanyeol plate, without a word, without a gaze. Baekhyun started wrapping another piece of meat for himself, missing the way Chanyeol’s lips curled into a giddy smile as he took the wrap Baekhyun had made for him and slowly ate it in small bites. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The alcohol in their veins was just enough to keep them warm and filling their bodies with joy - especially Chanyeol's. Baekhyun was curled on the couch of the noraebang, clapping in rhythm to the song on the tambourine while Chanyeol sang his heart out. Or so Baekhyun thought he was slamming it in rhythm, but at some point the soju in his system had blurred all the lines between musicality and bestiality and soon he was just hitting it as a stress reliever, bouncing on the couch as he was cheering for Chanyeol. The latter had stricken a pause, lips slurring a beautiful Korean rock song Baekhyun didn’t know the name of, while the TV was playing an old video that was supposedly the music video, yellow letters showing the lyrics at the bottom of the screen. 

Baekhyun’s head was spinning a bit so he decided to go back to curling himself on the couch, tambourine pressed against his chest as his eyes travelled to the guitarist. 

Chanyeol had untied his hair for the occasion, saying something along the lines of how essential his long hair’s freedom was to the noraebang experience. The curls were like the ribbons of the gymnasts Baekhyun sometimes watched on TV, like silk they would make a perfect twirl and follow their owner, and it felt like if he brushed his fingers through them they would just slide between each strand effortlessly and leave him with the ghost of a caress and goodbye on his skin. He was curious as to how it would really feel. How would Chanyeol’s hair feel between the pads of his fingers?

 

“Are you sure you’ve never heard of this song?” Chanyeol suddenly appeared, plopping down on the small couch beside him. Their legs were touching, Baekhyun exhaled, his eyes hardly traveling from the wild curls surrounding Chanyeol’s face, dark and bewitching in a sort of way that Baekhyun wouldn’t know how to describe. They just made the guitarist's eyes more profound. Eyes he had a hard time not looking away from as their owner talked to him. “It’s  _ The More I Love _ by Boohwal!” He exclaimed, his curls sliding from behind his left ear where he had tried to tuck them. An ear on which stood discreetly a very thin silver piercing, right on the helix, kissing the shell of his ear. Baekhyun had never noticed the piercing before today.

 

“I…” His voice was trembling. “I don’t really listen to this type of music.” He licked his lips - they still tasted of soju.

 

Chanyeol didn’t say anything at first, only staring at Baekhyun. It made him feel naked, the way they seemed to be seeing him. Really seeing him. So dark and penetrating. He felt the skin crawl on his forearms and squirmed a bit. And when his tongue went for his dry lips again, he saw how Chanyeol’s irises followed the motion, and how they lingered.

 

“I see you quite a lot with your earphones on, though.” He hummed, something akin to a smirk dancing on the corner of his lips as he tilted his head to the side, resting it on the heel of his palm. “What do you listen to?”

 

It was like there was something missing in his sentence, from the way it hung into the air and rung deeply into Baekhyun’s marrow, shaking his soul. Shaking his soul with the desire to hear the rest. To hear the word that Chanyeol had decided to hold back. The word that was probably the key to the many questions which were currently leading a war in Baekhyun’s alcohol-intoxicated mind.

How would Chanyeol’s hair feel under the pad of his fingers? How would it feel to thread his hand through the ebony mane of hair? What would happen if he tugged at it? Harshly? Sensually? Slowly? Delicately? 

 

“Baekhyun?” Chanyeol seemed to be hesitating between amusement and being intrigued. 

 

There was a lock of hair between his fingers - like a ring of satin, dark chocolate melting on the tip of his index as he pressed his finger against the curl and tried to distort it. It felt just like he had thought it would - soft. So soft. He wanted to nuzzle his face into the mop of hair and take a deep breath of the probably enticing scent that it would exhume. 

 

“Seems like you’re a bit more tipsy than what we had planned.” Chanyeol chuckled, his warm breath fanning on Baekhyun’s face.

 

“No.” The archer said simply, voice ringing in the lower notes. “I was just curious.” He retrieved his hand, taking the mic from Chanyeol’s hand instead and standing up. “Let me show you that I am not a loser like you seem to think.”

 

Chanyeol leaned back into the couch, watching as Baekhyun went to chose a song.

 

“This is what I listen to.” He said with his chin tilted up in pride, and the first note started to fill the room.

 

Chanyeol almost choked on his spit. “ _ Shabang Shabang _ ?!”

 

Baekhyun was so into the performance, his passion almost outshined the one he showcased when he would draw his bow. He even knew the steps of the dance, swinging his hips as he chanted soulfully into the mic, the notes of the funky trot song marking the rhythm to his sloppy but exuberant and passionate dance. His nose would scrunch as he would hit the high notes, his brows furrowed.

 

If Chanyeol’s first reaction had been to laugh, he now just couldn’t look away from Baekhyun. There was something in the way he sang and delivered the lyrics, how he seemed to be feeling the music that just got to his heart and made something flutter. He couldn’t look away - it was like he was sent back to that day, when Baekhyun had won the competition and had turned to smile at him. It was the same feeling.

 

The feeling of a growing fondness for the Fearless Moonbeam.

 

“You really like this?” He asked once Baekhyun was done, his voice a bit hushed despite himself.

 

“Yeah.” Baekhyun replied breathlessly, but smiling so, so brightly.

 

Chanyeol was just left to look at him, and the happiness that was oozing from him, feeling his cheeks flame up as the realization hit him. It hit him softly, just like a leaf would hit the ground as it would fall from the tree.

 

_ Oh. I really like him.  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

“Can I request a song from you?” Baekhyun’s speech was a bit more slurred, there was a newly opened bottle of soju sitting on the table, half emptied. 

 

“Yeah?” Chanyeol breathed, going to take the mic from Baekhyun who had just sang his own song - another trot one. The archer went to curl back into the couch, taking a pillow to hug it to his chest. He looked a bit sleepy. 

 

“It’s a song I love a lot, it was in this famous drama.  _ Don’t worry, dear _ .” 

 

Chanyeol stilled when he heard the title. Baekhyun noticed it.

 

“What is it?” He perked up - he was sucking on his thumb, pulled it out of his mouth when he looked up at Chanyeol. It was slicked with saliva, and so were his lips. 

 

Chanyeol pressed his own into a thin line, thinking for an instant. He took the bottle of soju that was on the table, chugging most of it one one go and letting out a husky drawl after he was done, the liquid burning his throat but waking him up.

 

“You know Django.” He said, dipped in his thoughts.

 

“Django Reinhardt.” Baekhyun smiled sweetly. 

 

Chanyeol tried a smile too, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Or it did, but the lingering sadness in them was vaster. 

 

“Yeah, him.” He looked down. “It belonged to a dear friend. I inherited it.”

 

Baekhyun suddenly sat up straight, feeling that it was more appropriate for such a situation. There was a seed of guilt suddenly taking root in his stomach. Chanyeol probably felt the question in his eyes, so he gave him the answer.

 

“She died of leukemia.” He shrugged. “The bike was so ugly, but for some reason she hung onto it. Said that even the ugliest things deserve love.” He chuckled. He was still there, but to Baekhyun, it seemed that he was years into the past, back somewhere in his memories when that girl was still around. She must have made him happy, for his eyes were shining so brightly when he talked about her. Baekhyun felt small. Very small. “She probably said this because she somehow thought that her disease made her ugly, and she wanted more than anything to be loved.”

 

“You found her beautiful, didn’t you?” Baekhyun said in a breath, like a whisper, almost afraid to ask, for he knew the answer.

 

“Yeah, I did.”

 

He gulped, swallowing back the lump that had formed in his throat. Chanyeol took the bottle again, chugging down the rest of it before placing it back on the table with an accidental loud slam. 

 

He didn’t sing the song. Instead, he sat back on the couch, Baekhyun beside him, their thighs pressed against each other. The silence was nice. He wasn’t sure if Baekhyun was sleeping or not - but he guessed that he wasn’t. He wasn’t making his little puppy noises, so he probably wasn’t. 

 

“I was wondering,” Baekhyun suddenly spoke up, his eyes gently opening and falling on Chanyeol’s face. He had his cheek pressed against the tiny velvety cushion. “What is your major?”

 

It had Chanyeol smile. He even let out a little giggle. He was happy. Happy that Baekhyun was being curious about silly stuff like this - about little details that concerned him, but not asking about the secrets that had left scars on him. Baekhyun was being curious about him in his very own way, and that made Chanyeol so very happy. Baekhyun cared. 

 

“Engineering.” The right corner of his lips curled up. “Material science and chemical system engineering, to be precise.”

 

There was a low whistling sound coming from Baekhyun. “A Smartie, too.”

 

“Not really.” Chanyeol rubbed the side of his neck in mock shyness. “More like, I have a goal, and that’s how I will achieve it.”

 

“A goal?” Baekhyun sounded interested, although his voice was a bit raspy and it had Chanyeol feel things he shouldn’t. “And what is that?”

 

“Prosthesis are still a pain most of the time, and they cost a lot. I wish that could change. I want to work in this field.”

 

There he was, caressing his lips again, his index tracing their shape slowly - sensually. “I see.”

 

Chanyeol could see too. He could see those lips. They were all he could see. He looked away. “What about you?” He started fiddling with the mic, not looking up but feeling Baekhyun’s gaze on him. 

 

“Education.” The latter replied. “I want to be a coach. For young kids.”

 

That made sense. And Chanyeol could totally visualize it. He could totally see Baekhyun surrounded with kids, teaching them how to draw on their bow and offering them smiles as radiant as moonlight no matter how good they would do. He could totally see it. 

 

Suddenly, Baekhyun’s phone vibrated. For long. He probably took some time to realize, half slumbering - his eyes had closed at some point during his discussion with Chanyeol. But when he opened them to check the caller’s ID, they widened drastically.

 

“Oh gosh, it’s very late.” He hurriedly sat up making the cushion fall to the ground.

 

“Time goes by fast when you’re having fun.” Chanyeol tried a little chuckle, but he immediately felt dumb for saying this. So awkward and uncool. 

 

“I really need to go.” Baekhyun didn’t seem to have heard him though, which was a blessing. He seemed quite preoccupied. “Time went by so fast. I had fun, thanks to you.” He said with a smile as he was already halfway to the door. “It’s on me, don’t worry.”

 

Chanyeol sat up from the couch like an arrow. “Are you alright?”

 

But Baekhyun just smiled at him, whispering a small ‘yeah’ before apologizing again.

 

Then he was gone.

 

Chanyeol stayed for a bit longer. Curled on the couch, he would turn on the same songs, but never sing. He probably dozed off at some point, listening to the same funky trot song on repeat, dreaming of a little Fearless Moonbeam who comically swayed his hips to the music. 

  
  
  
  


*******

  
  
  
  
  


“I told you, I don’t want to eat chicken!” Baekhyun whined, kicking his feet on the ground childishly as he walked behind an unbothered Jongdae. 

 

“You’re just embarrassed because Chanyeol is going to be there.” The other rolled his eyes, climbing up the stairs of  _ Big Cock Chicken _ .

 

“Why would I be embarrassed?” Baekhyun was the one exaggeratingly rolling his eyes this time, still at the bottom of the staircase, debating if he should really go or just make a ruckus here.

 

“I don’t know,” Jongdae shrugged, “you tell me.” He pursed his lips into a kittish smile, and all Baekhyun could think was that he looked exactly like those little devils seen in cartoons. “It seems like you’ve been avoiding him a bit these past few days. Poor guy was looking so lonely, playing the guitar in the bleachers as all you would do is look at your target.”

 

“I’m practising, Jongdae.” Baekhyun slammed his foot on the first stair, sighing heavily as he proceeded excruciatingly slow to climb up. 

 

“You could at least, I don’t know, wave at him?”

 

Baekhyun ignored him, pushing open the door of the restaurant.

 

And it was Chanyeol who went to take care of them.

 

“Oh, fancy seeing you there.” He seemed surprised, and his eyes would dart to Baekhyun, although the latter would do as if he hadn’t noticed. “ A table for two I guess?”

 

“Unfortunately, the girl of my dreams will have to be him tonight.” Jongdae faked a sigh, and Chanyeol just chuckled, walking them to an empty table. 

 

Baekhyun sat without a word, only nodding his head to thank Chanyeol when he gave him the menu. The guitarist walked away, instructing them to call him when they would be done choosing. 

 

“He looked at you with so much expectation in his eyes, oh my goodness.” Jongdae slammed his menu on the table, making Baekhyun’s shoulders stiffen. 

 

He sighed again, his gaze now finally allowing itself to look at what he had tried to avoid for the past few days.

Yes, he had been avoiding Chanyeol. 

It’s not that he was mad, or that he was embarrassed, per se. Yet, there was that something in the back of his mind that just told him it wasn’t  _ right _ .

What was it, he had no idea, but he had noticed that when he wouldn’t give too much attention to Chanyeol, his mind felt more at peace, and the guilt in his chest would decrease. He didn’t like this. He could feel Chanyeol’s eyes on him - he could hear how just the other day, Chanyeol had been playing an adaptation of  _ Shabang Shabang  _ softly on his guitar, when he and Baekhyun had been the only ones left in the practice room. He knew very well, and yet he was stuck. He was stuck between two opposite desires that he himself couldn’t put a name on.

 

“You’re staring at him.” Jongdae simply stated.

 

Baekhyun hummed. He had his head resting on the back of the small couch, his cheek pressed into the leather as his eyes were looking to the distance, following the silhouette. 

Chanyeol had his hair tied into a bun and he was wearing the waiter uniform - slick black pants and a white fitted shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing honey forearms that shone under the neon lights. He was smiling so warmly to the customers as he was carrying their plates to them, moving with a grace that Baekhyun hadn’t noticed in him before. It was like he was seeing him under a new light.

 

Or not. Not really. If he was to be honest, it was a light he had noticed before. And it was exactly since that light had appeared that unease had settled in his chest.

 

He sighed, dragging his gaze to the menu, while Jongdae studied him with lips pressed into a thin line.

  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  


It was there again. It wasn’t distracting him, on the contrary, it brought a cadence to his gestures. Pulling on the string, bringing it to his lips, then release. It was like Chanyeol was doing it on purpose, to adjust all his notes to Baekhyun’s movements. As if he was playing an ode to him. Guitar strums like sweet whispers in Baekhyun’s ear. Guiding him. 

He started shooting faster, aiming quicker, with fewer time between each arrow, and the guitar picked up, the notes accelerating too, following his each and every movement. And when he would abruptly slow down, so would the guitar.

They were teasing each other. Silently, with music. They were playing a game of tag. Baekhyun was running away, Chanyeol was running after him, and yet every time he would see that Chanyeol would struggle to keep up, he would slow down, letting him just enough time so just the tips of the guitarist’s fingers could graze him and yet, never catch him.

 

He chuckled, setting down his bow. With an amused smile, he finally looked over to Chanyeol.

 

It was past midnight.

 

“It’s late.” He breathed softly, but Chanyeol heard him nonetheless. Of course he would. 

 

“You must be tired.” He shrugged. there was a Thermos beside him, the blue one this time.

 

It was just like this. For a whole week, Baekhyun had tried to avoid Chanyeol, and yet, there he was, following the string that seemed to be pulling him toward the guitarist. Sitting beside him. Their legs, their thighs touching. Chanyeol handed him the Thermos.

 

“Long time no see.” He sing-sang in a small voice, tiny smile on his lips.

 

“You came here yesterday.” Baekhyun rolled his eyes and took the Thermos, setting it between his thighs to open the lid. 

 

Chanyeol didn’t reply. Instead, he was staring. At Baekhyun, or at his soul, behind the facade that the archer was trying to keep - he wasn’t sure, but it made Baekhyun tremble. He looked away, into the Thermos where the chicken soup was. It was good, as always, he thought as he pressed the warm spoon against his lips. Chanyeol was still staring, he didn’t have to look to know. He could feel it. 

 

He turned his head, facing Chanyeol. Their faces were close, there seemed to be not enough oxygen, and Baekhyun felt his lips dry. Twenty centimeters, maybe less. He could see the mole on Chanyeol’s nose. He could almost count his lashes, if he didn’t fall for tangling his fingers in the ebony curls beforehand. 

 

“Want some?” He moved the Thermos towards Chanyeol, the spoon inside tinkling.

 

Chanyeol just looked down at the food without moving his head, before his eyes travelled back to meet with Baekhyun’s - maybe resting a bit too long on the archer's lips as he pressed his in a thin line.

 

He only parted them in response.  And it was Baekhyun’s turn to stare at Chanyeol’s lips as he brought some soup to them.

Chanyeol engulfed the spoon in his mouth, leaning forward, eyes never leaving Baekhyun as he swallowed the broth that Baekhyun was feeding him. Then he freed the spoon, smirking in a delighted way. 

 

“Are you a baby?” Baekhyun chuckled, distancing himself a bit, and just as he was about to tear his leg away from Chanyeol’s he felt a hand slowly sliding up to his thigh and reaching for the seam of his jeans, on the inside of his limb. He shuddered. Chanyeol was looking away, staring at the target where Baekhyun’s arrows were still stuck.

 

“That’s for you.” The guitarist just breathed before he got up and started packing his guitar back in his suitcase.

 

Baekhyun was startled to see a ticket for the amusement park, two weeks away, set between his legs.

 

He had some troubles breathing, his cheeks feeling hot as he watched Chanyeol leave, Lady Swing dangling on his back.

  
  
  
  
  


*******

  
  
  
  
  


Baekhyun had been surprised when Chanyeol had suddenly called him, asking him to meet him with his ‘ _swaggiest_ ’ attire. Not really knowing what _swaggiest_ stood for in Chanyeol’s language, he opted for some comfy ripped jeans with a chain that swung on his hips, and a simple baby blue hoodie that covered his weather-proof black shirt. 

They had met at a  _ Seven Eleven _ , where Chanyeol had instructed him to choose a cup of ramyeon which they ate in the little plastic chairs set in front of the store. Apparently they were about to do something that required energy but which was better achieved if your stomach wasn’t too stuffed - ramyeon being the perfect choice, Chanyeol explained vehemently.

 

It was a first for Baekhyun, to eat a cup of ramyeon on a plastic chair in front of a random corner-street shop, watching as the sky gradually dipped into the darker shades of the night. He was a bit cold, but the cup was warm against his hands, and Chanyeol was keeping him entertained, telling him silly life happenings like that one time when someone had called him  _ ahjumma _ on the bus because of his long hair, not having seen his face previously. They would shake their legs to keep themselves warm, and sometimes, just sometimes, Baekhyun would hold his breath when Chanyeol’s would linger for a bit longer against his. He didn’t mind it. It was warm. He held his breath.

 

When they got up and left after tossing their empty cups, Baekhyun couldn’t contain his curiosity anymore.

 

“Where are we going?” He asked as they walked side to side, burying themselves deeper and deeper into crowded street of the bustling Itaewon. 

 

“You’ll see.” Chanyeol said with a mysterious smile, licking his lips which probably still tasted of ramyeon. 

 

They turned into a small badly lit street, up a sort of slope where the nightlife establishments were fewer, but the people there - especially the men - seemed to bear a style of their own, more sophisticated, if he could say. 

 

“Wait, is this…” Baekhyun held his breath as they stopped in front of a night club.

 

“People are less judgemental in those places - you’ll see, it’s very nice.” Chanyeol winked at him, placing his hands on both his shoulders, giving him just the little push he needed to walk into the club.

 

A gay nightclub.

 

The ambiance inside was quite stuffed, the room not being so big, and there was smoke that had been let out to give some sort of ambiance, magenta light rays piercing through it, rivaling with the golden ones. People were dancing, there were both men and women, although the first seemed to be more numerous. The music wasn’t in Korean, it also wasn’t something of the popular sounds heard in the shops that the youth enjoyed. It was more groovy, and there was a nice beat to it.

 

“They are having a 70’s-80’s themed night tonight.’’ Chanyeol breathed against his ear, startling him, but then a hand slipped in his and he didn’t mind it. He gave it a light approving squeeze. “Do you want a drink first?”

 

Two men were dancing together beside them, grinding, their hands travelling on each other’s body. Baekhyun nodded, trying to look away. 

Chanyeol led him to the bar where he asked him what he wanted - but he had no knowledge in alcohol so he let Chanyeol choose for him. He didn’t really care. All he wanted was for the discomfort to vanish - a glass of whatever would have done the thing.

He was given a brightly colored drink of which Chanyeol gave him the name but he barely deciphered from the loud music. 

 

“Those things are very sweet. You’ll want to drink it like a juice but you should be careful, the alcohol is still there.” 

 

Baekhyun took a sip and indeed, it was very sweet, but also very tasty. He liked it. 

He sat on a stool by the bar, Chanyeol standing beside him, his eyes wandering on the crowd as his head was moving to the beat. It was a song in English Baekhyun had never heard, but he had to admit it was quite nice. Everything was nice, and strangely, he felt like he belonged there.

His lips around the straw, his eyes kept landing back on the two men in each other’s arms, the taller man has his face nuzzled in the birth of his partner’s shoulder as they swung their bodies gently to the music, not really following it, but closer to  following a rhythm of their own. Baekhyun just couldn’t look away. Like his eyes and soul were pulled towards this direction, he just had to stare. The way they held each other, and the way two bodies seemed just as if on, symbiosis - he found it stirring something in his chest that left him with buzzing fingertips and the ache to do just the same. Hold someone this way and never let go.

 

“Shall we dance?” Chanyeol asked him as he extended his hand, pulling him out of his mooning. 

 

Baekhyun stared at the hand, hesitation evident in his eyes.

 

“Come on, you’ve been on edge for the whole week. Now is your time to go wild and let it all out!” Chanyeol beamed, tugging on his hand after he had placed the glass back on the counter. 

 

It was like electricity, the buzzing feeling in his fingertips, like a chemical reaction to the touch that sent an electric shock to his heart, making it beat wildly against his ribcage. His free hand went to his heart, for fear it was malfunctioning. It hurt. It hurt a bit, like a pressure against its walls, yet he felt like he was reborn, like he was unstoppable, renewed energy flowing through his veins. He gripped the hand tighter, and didn’t miss the smile that pulled on the corner of Chanyeol’s lips. He felt a finger running along his knuckles, gentle.

 

There, the music switched to a new song, and something in Chanyeol’s eyes lit up. “Wait, wait! This is my favorite song, we  _ have _ to dance to this one.”

 

Baekhyun didn’t have the chance to retort anything back at him as he was pulled along the mass of people and very quickly found himself on the center of the dancefloor. 

 

“But I don’t know how to dance.” He whined, hoping that the lame excuse would save him, but Chanyeol just smiled at him. His heart squeezed, a little bit more again.

 

“So don’t I!” The guitarist beamed, head thrown back, the light shining on his adam’s apple like the sun rays kissing the mountains which circled Seoul when it was the hour of sunset. “But the whole point of this song is to just move your body so you would let the frustration out!” Chanyeol was screaming over the music, still holding tightly onto Baekhyun’s hand.

 

It was a song Baekhyun knew. He had heard it a lot in shops, and even some movies. It was quite popular in Korea, and he knew its title. It was  _ Take on Me _ by A-ha. And in all honesty, it was a song he liked quite a bit too. 

Chanyeol suddenly started dancing in front of him, a huge smile plastered on his face. Well, maybe dancing wasn’t exactly the term to describe what he was doing, but he was moving to the song. Flailing his arms around just like an octopus, his chest going back, then forward while he wiggled his shoulders, making a strange face, he was singing the lyrics of the song on top of his lungs, going into a very smooth and sensual body roll, his gaze piercing into Baekhyun’s irises.

 

“Come on, let your frustration out! Bash something you hate!” Chanyeol shouted, getting closer to Baekhyun, hands up in the air as he rolled his head back and let the rhythm invade his body.

 

Maybe it was because he felt bad for Chanyeol who was ridiculizing himself for him, or maybe it was the alcohol, he wasn’t sure, but Baekhyun took his advice. 

Pressing his fists under his armpits, he imitated wings, flapping them to the beat of the song. And as he started swaying his hips, he shouted on the top of his lungs:

 

“I hate eating chicken!” 

 

It was freeing. Like the walls he had thought belonged to his heart, but were instead the cage that bound it, imploded. He was free. He was free free free  _ free free _ .

 

He flapped his wings even more vehemently, bopping his head with a blank face, looking mighty serious. “I’ve been eating so much chicken lately it feels like I am going to turn into one!” 

 

He was getting more and more into his dance, shouting so loudly people had stopped dancing to look at him as he was swaying his hips in what could have been a sexy way if not for the fact that he was flapping his make-believe wings, professing his hatred for all the chicken Chanyeol had been feeding him so far. 

It was intoxicating, this feeling of freedom, like a golden nectar flowing through his veins, it just fueled him. He couldn’t stop. He was lost. Lost in the delectation of the moment, in the sobriety of the essence that had him drunk - the happiness that had him drunk. 

Lights sashayed through the smoke to kiss his skin, making him glow of sensuous magenta and voluptuous cobalt blue. 

 

Chanyeol felt like laughing at first, but along the notes, as the vixen in front of him started to undo the laces of timidity and reserve and lash it all out, he fell into the claws of lust and infatuation. Baekhyun was beautiful. Baekhyun was so beautiful, he wanted to grip him by the shoulders and dig his nail into his flesh as he would bury his face in his chest and take in the wholeness of the archer’s scent, take it all in and fill his chest with Baekhyun Baekhyun Baekhyun  _ Baekhyun _ . He wanted to breathe Baekhyun. Breathe.

 

“I won’t ever eat chickeeeeen! Woop woop!”

 

But Chanyeol was also outraged by Baekhyun’s statement. Deciding that this was a declaration of war, he retaliated.

  
  


It began with a smirk, and he approached closer to Baekhyun, frontal attack. Baekhyun looked up in surprise, and Chanyeol’s smile just widened with mischief. Imitating Baekhyun’s stance, he started flailing his arms too, bopping his head. Doing his best chicken dance, he started declaiming his praises:

 

“Chicken is the best food in the world!” He sung out, jumping from one foot to another, shaking his rear at Baekhyun’s direction in provocation. “Chicken is a gift of God - the child of God itself.” He closed his eyes, face getting comically serious as a frown took root between his brows and he pursed his lips making a duck face that had Baekhyun cringe-chuckle. “Chicken, chicken, chicken, my love.” He began to sing to the rhythm of the song. “Chicken love!” Chanyeol did a grand yet sloppy spin on himself before he swung his hips from side to side and ended the whole dance with a little jiggling of the ass.

 

Baekhyun burst out of laugher, completely losing it. There he noticed that the crowd had gathered around them in a circle, and that all along they had been watched. Behind the magenta strobe lights, he felt himself blush. The song suddenly switched, and The Psychedelic Furs’  _ Love My Way  _ started playing. 

Baekhyun was running on the thrill of the taste of freedom had left on his tongue, like a drug in his veins, he started dancing again - or more like jumping there and about, hair bouncing to the music as he shook his head, letting the song take over his mind, following where it was going, letting loose. His footwork wasn’t particularly regular, but he was getting there, fingers threading his hair back as he let the lights kiss his neck when he would throw his head back - he was enjoying himself. But when his eyes fell on Chanyeol, he noticed how something switched in the way Chanyeol’s gaze was resting on him. Without a warning, he started dancing too.

 

Hands thrown in the air, eyes never leaving Baekhyun’s, his body started swaying, hips undulating as his face gradually wore a darker, more mysterious expression. With his lips parted in a sensuous expression, it was like he was sucking Baekhyun’s soul and sanity in. His hair was like a lion’s mane, wild and suavely curly around his face, he would push it back sometimes with his fingers, combing them back, but the curls would always come back around his face, and it had Baekhyun losing a bit more of his sanity. 

The lights were shining on Chanyeol’s sweaty honey skin and his oversized white shirt was giving away hints of a sultry clavicle that Baekhyun just couldn’t look away. The little wooden cross was nestled there, just on the jugular notch, like it was its nest. Like it belonged there. 

 

Suddenly, someone from the crowd pushed Chanyeol towards Baekhyun, shouting something in lines of  _ ‘go get your man’ _ . Chanyeol almost tripped, catching himself by Baekhyun’s shoulders, Baekhyun’s hand falling on his waist - the archer looked up under his eyelashes and purred:

 

“Are you alright?” His voice sounded husky and rough, probably from the whole shouting he had done. He was bit breathless too. Chanyeol was so close, it smelled of perspiration mixed to some manly cologne Baekhyun had never felt from the man, but it was intoxicating. He didn’t want to move his hands from Chanyeol’s waist, and the latter didn’t make a move to take his away from Baekhyun’s shoulders, so neither did he.

 

“Yeah.” Chanyeol exhaled with his gaze dipped into Baekhyun's. “I’m okay.”

 

Baekhyun held his breath as much as he held Chanyeol’s gaze. He could feel it. Maybe it was just him, but he could feel the string that linked them and that seemed to be shrinking, that seemed to be pulling them closer, closer, closer closer closer. He felt Chanyeol’s pelvis against his, it was swinging smoothly, sensually - Chanyeol smiled a crooked smile when the touch happened, Baekhyun only licked his lips, feeling his tongue dry. His hand had found its way into Chanyeol’s mane. Tugging at the curls, he combed them back, letting his digits get tangled in the silky curls so he would never have to, never be able to let go. It drew a moan from Chanyeol who closed his eyes in what seemed to be pleasure and let his head fall forward, his forehead pressed against Baekhyun’s temple. They danced, their arms pulling the other’s bodies closer, they were flushed against each other as they let their bodies undulate from side to side. 

They were drunk on the music. It was hot, so hot. Baekhyun thought he could barely breathe from Chanyeol’s heady perfume. He felt an arm wrap itself around the small of his back, it was saying that he couldn’t go away. And he didn’t have any intention to. He was a prisoner of this. Of this feeling of complete and utter freedom. He was free, yet it felt as if he wasn’t in control of his movement. Chanyeol’s thigh was pressed between his legs as they danced - grinded, and he was clawing at the guitarist’s biceps, asking for more, desiring to feel more. Desiring something he didn’t dare to name. Chanyeol’s gaze was so spellbinding, in a stygian way - like Hades had come to kidnap Baekhyun from the heaven he had tried to stay put in, but had failed to do so because of his debauched secrets he had tried so hard to keep hidden in a small parcel of his soul while he had succumbed to them. It felt like Chanyeol, like Hades, was seeing right through him, right through his inclinations and cravings. He had been discovered - completely exposed. Naked.

 

It was Baekhyun who broke their staring contest first when he went to nuzzle his face in Chanyeol’s shoulder. His lips followed the line of his clavicle, kissing it, tasting it in a swift inhale, before they came to rest on the little wooden cross which he kissed deeply - begging the Holy Father to pardon him for his sinful penchants. 

 

Chanyeol’s arms both came to envelop him into an embrace, and as their bodies sluggishly swung side to side in the imitation of a slow dance, he felt lips pressing themselves against the crown of his head, and it had him tremble to the marrow. 

 

He closed his eyes, feeling the hard and sharp cross dig into his lips.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ It was nice _ , was what he said when Chanyeol walked him to the bus station. 

 

The atmosphere was so cold outside, making an impressive contrast with how he had felt long minutes ago when they were still in the club. Like the cold was kissing his bones and didn’t want to leave his limbs. Chanyeol had thrown only an oversized thin woolen knit top, his hands balled into sweater paws. Its cream color contrasted well with the salmon red strips of his white shirt and his ebony hair. It was the first time Baekhyun was seeing him dressed so properly. He liked it. He liked it more than he should have.

 

_ We’ll have other nice moments like this _ , was what Chanyeol had promised him as Baekhyun’s bus appeared into view. Baekhyun had simply smiled to that before he walked to the bus. He only looked back once he had his foot set on the vehicle’s step. Chanyeol had his hand in the air in a friendly salute _.  _ Baekhyun had only nodded to that before engulfing himself into the overheated bus. 

 

He spent the whole ride reminiscing of the sensations that were still buzzing on his epidermis, his index pressed on the core of his lips, just where the cross had rested. With his eyes closed, trying to relive the moment, he let the warmth of the heaters bathe him, not admitting that he was missing the warmth of Chanyeol’s embrace. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The house was empty when he arrived. His mother was away for a trip. He sighed, taking a banana which he ate on his way to his bedroom, throwing the peel in his desk bin. He should have probably showered before changing into his pajamas, yet, he didn’t feel like it.

He just wanted to stay like this for a bit longer, with the sensations of the night still printed onto his skin. His body collapsed on his mattress, and he stared at the glowing stars that he had pasted on his ceiling. Some of them weren’t glowing anymore, but he never bothered to take them off - he liked this. He liked how, just like him, they were growing older. Not glowing anymore was part of their life, just as at some point, his own flame would be snuffed out by the fingers of Time.

 

It was hot in his room. He shifted on his side. But the pillow felt hot too. So hot. Like the hands were still on his body, travelling on his skin - the ghosts of the touches burnt. He pulled on his pillow, frustrated, and pressed it against his stomach. The pillow was warm, but not as warm as he felt, so it was slightly soothing. He inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly. The top of his pajamas was sticking to his skin, and he pulled at the collar, peeling the shirt off his body, throwing it to the floor - yet it still felt too hot. Like he was still stuck in hell. He pressed the pillow against his torso and rolled on one side, then another. Kicking his feet, he pushed his blanket off the mattress, but it still felt too much, too much warmth, but not exactly the warmth he wanted. Rolling on his stomach atop of the pillow, he breathed very, very deeply. His respiration seemed to be echoing in the room, like a loud thunderclap that rolled against rocks, a threat that the walls were to crumble and bury him alive. His whole body was still buzzing, the empty trails of the past caresses like fire on his flesh. He gripped the pillow tighter, flexing his biceps and his abdomen, sliding his hips down the pillow slowly, groaning into the cushion. Biting down on his lower lip and closing his eyes, he slid back up, pelvis rubbing against the pillow as he exhaled profoundly from his nose.

 

He could hear his blood travel, drumming against his eardrums and emptying his mind from any sanity. His body seemed to become warmer, warmer, like the fire of hell wasn’t around him, but came from the pits of his entrails and was consuming him like the devil licking on his flesh. Like his mind was disconnected from his consciousness, he could hear loud panting and wheezing, and he could feel the pain in his finger joints from how strongly he was clutching at the pillow, and he could feel the soreness rise in his shoulders from the weight of his body on his arms. There was the rustle of sheets too, bedsheets, and the creaking of the bed springs. Yet, he didn’t know what was happening. There were images of magenta hues kissing honey skin glistening with sweat on a refined collarbone which hosted a wooden cross, ebony curls sometimes bouncing low enough to graze the clavicles. And there was a low voice that was humming in the shell of his ear.  _ Yeah, I’m okay _ it said in a whisper. A moan.

He didn’t know, until a wave coursed through his body, something that coiled in the pit of his stomach and bloomed to the rest of his body, making himself shiver as he threw his head back and let a raspy growl come out of his throat just before he collapsed on his pillow.

 

He laid like this, trying to regain a stable heartbeat and his breathing, hooded eyes glued to the creases on the bed sheets.

 

“Fuck.” He closed them, trembling fingers going to cover his face. “Fuck.”

 

He barely dared to move his leg, feeling the stickiness that was slowly trickling down the inside of his thigh, like a remnant of shame that didn’t want to be forgotten. He pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbed his eyes before pressing his face into the pillow - cutting his respiration. 

 

No sobs came out, but there was something in the way  his shoulders curved forward that gave away more than he wanted to.

  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  


The chase continued. The music notes continued going after the arrows. The teasing was still on. Lingering touches, legs too close as they sat and ate in silence, midnight long since passed in the empty practice room. Words were rarely uttered, music and the sound of arrows slashing through the air always replacing them, trying to say the things that were left unsaid. 

  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  


They were engulfed in the underground tunnels, a ball of light travelling into the dark as the subway roared peacefully, the sound linear, no one really speaking, everyone on their smartphones. There were no available seats, so Chanyeol was leaned against one of the bars, holding it behind his back, while his other arm was wrapped around a passed out Baekhyun. The archer had muttered something about how Chanyeol’s bright red padded coat looked just like sleeping bag before he had stuffed his face into it soon, soft snores and puppy noises rose from his form. He was probably exhausted from the neverending practices. All Chanyeol could do was watch the boy in his arms, the way the artificial light reflected on his lashes, throwing shades on his cheekbones, like weeping willows kissing the still waters of a placid lake. The seven little freckles on the bridge of his nose were like the timid water lilies floating above the still waters, and just how he would have wished to pick up those, he was wishing to lean in and kiss them, but refrained from doing so. Baekhyun’s lips were moving ever so slightly as he slept, like mumbling silently, maybe whispering sweet nothings to the person in his dreams. Chanyeol just couldn’t look away. When the subway would stop, he would always make sure to tighten his hold around Baekhyun’s waist, balancing the both of them so they wouldn’t fall. And from time to time, Baekhyun eyes would open just like rose buds kissed by a butterfly, before he would close them again after some seconds of sleepy confusion. 

 

Like this, they rode to their destination, music playing in Chanyeol ears.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The park was huge, one of the most renowned in South Korea, and although they had made sure to come early, the queue by the entrance was still very long. Baekhyun who was still a bit sleepy didn’t seem to mind, leaning his head against Chanyeol’s shoulder, they queued silently, both listening to the music on Chanyeol’s phone. He had downloaded some trot songs, and Baekhyun seemed to be appreciating it, humming along with the music. 

 

“Take this.” Chanyeol fetched something out of his pocket. It was a little box of milk caramels his mother had given to him. “I can hear your stomach grumbling from there.” 

 

Baekhyun took the box with his lips pursed in happiness, “It’s not chicken!” He sounded delighted. Chanyeol rolled his eyes, elbowing him playfully in the ribs. 

 

“The kimbap in my bag is made of chicken though.” He said with a snicker, amused by the expression of despair that had invaded Baekhyun’s facial features. “I’m still not completely done turning you into a chicken.” He ruffled the archer’s hair. He had been dying to do so since the subway. 

 

Baekhyun just shut him up by forcing a caramel into his mouth.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It was like they had been propelled in the land of fairytales once they stepped inside the park. It was all so beautiful, looking almost unrealistic. Everything was of bright colors, houses which resembled the ones you could see in Amsterdam, all glued to each other of different colors and different shapes and architecture but yet fitted next to each other like five fingers fitted into one glove. On the horizon could be seen roller-coasters and other attractions, while people hurried one way or another, many already queuing for this or that merry-go-round.

 

It was Baekhyun’s first time in an attraction park, and although it was crowded and there was so much movement around him - it sparked a blooming sentiment of joy and excitement in his chest. 

 

“I want to see the pandas!” He heard Chanyeol squeal beside him. “Oh, and I want to go on the T Express! And the Wonder Falls!”

 

Baekhyun couldn’t help but smile. On the way here, Chanyeol had tried to persuade him that they were here only for Baekhyun’s enjoyment since apparently going to an amusement park were the ABC’s of any normal teenager’s life. Baekhyun hadn’t bothered to point out that Chanyeol sounded even more excited than him.

 

“Oh schnitzel.” Baekhyun felt something grabbing him by the sleeve, and he found himself pulled back beside a wide-eyed Chanyeol. “Bumper cars!”

 

Baekhyun looked toward the direction Chanyeol was pointing out - he seemed just like a child, all giddy and jumping as he repetitively gave little tugs to Baekhyun’s coat.

 

“Let’s go!” He sing-sang, puppy eyes as well as a big pouty smile directed toward Baekhyun.

 

“Won’t it be risky for your leg?” Baekhyun chewed on his lower lip as he inspected the attraction from afar. People were recklessly driving, trying to bump into each other on purpose, giggling and screaming. But the cars were small, and for Chanyeol with his long legs, he would most probably hit himself and get out of it hurt. 

 

“No it’s fine.” Chanyeol whined. “You’ll be there anyway.” He said with a shrug as he walked toward the waiting line.

 

Baekhyun held his breath, unmoving for a few moments as he watched the retiring back. Sighing, he proceeded to run after Chanyeol. 

 

“This will be fun, you’ll see!” Chanyeol clapped his hands, overly excited. That was enough for Baekhyun. Although he wasn’t fond of crowds and he was a bit cold, seeing Chanyeol pumped up like this, all starry-eyed was making him feel content. 

 

So they queued. With his hands buried in his pockets, Baekhyun entertained himself by looking at the people in the bumper cars. There seemed to be many couples, then some teenagers, or children with their parents. It was funny to see how much joy people could take from such a simple attraction as bumper cars. He saw many people banging their knees against the dashboard when they would collide with another car. Sometimes, his eyes would travel to the man standing behind him. Chanyeol seemed restless, unable to stop moving, unable to wipe off the grin from his lips. Baekhyun found himself staring when their eyes met - Chanyeol turned to him, and just like this, Baekhyun realized he had been ogling the guy for way longer than what was supposed to be seen as normal. But Chanyeol didn’t say anything, and he only held his gaze, a smirk growing on his lips as he tilted his head. It had Baekhyun swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. He looked away, munching on the inside of his cheek, feeling the brushes of embarrassment painting his cheeks. Just then, startling him a bit, something was pushed into his ear. When he glanced to his side, he saw that Chanyeol was trying to set an earbud in his ear. Baekhyun didn’t move, letting him do so. It seemed that the fingers lingered for a tad too long on the helix of his ear, and then the hand came to rest on the nape of his neck before notes of a piano came flooding him. Chanyeol just smiled at him before he shook his head faintly and looked away. Baekhyun didn’t. He didn’t look away. He looked at Chanyeol’s hair, at the way it gathered the sun’s rays, and at the way it all shone. The piano notes were running fast, but they weren’t catching up to the beat of his heart, still romping in his ribcage, drunk of the tingling feeling Chanyeol’s fingers had left on his neck. 

 

After a while, it was finally their turn to go. Chanyeol practically ran to the bumper car, holding Baekhyun’s hand. 

 

“The red one! This one goes fast, I saw it!” He beamed as he pointed toward a specific car. 

 

They rushed to it, but Chanyeol stopped dead in his tracks, Baekhyun bumping into him. “You should drive, he said.” His hand was on Baekhyun’s shoulder, massaging his trapezius gently, unconsciously. “We need to make sure you are having fun today.” He pursed his lips like a cat before his hand left Baekhyun’s shoulder and he walked to the passenger side of the car, Baekhyun following to sit beside him. 

 

It was thrilling. Now he understood. You didn’t have the best control of the car, and often there were just too many people around you not to bump into someone, but it was thrilling to try, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you dodged the cars, and then sometimes someone would decide to target you. Chanyeol was an awesome moodmaker too, clapping his hands and trying to guide Baekhyun, warning him or giving him directions, laughing out loud when they would collide head first into another car and Baekhyun would just get stuck, unable to move the car before other bumped into his and they would be stuck in a hodgepodge. At some point, Chanyeol’s hand just landed on his thigh, and he would give it a light squeeze when the excitement would become too much, the index sometimes traveling southern to breach at the seams of Baekhyun jeans, scratching on it and leaving a trail of tingles on the inside of Baekhyun’s thigh. 

 

The hand stayed for a bit even after their car stopped, and Chanyeol looked over to Baekhyun with a large smile, both breathless from their laugher. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“I’ll win it for you!” Chanyeol startled Baekhyun with his declaration, making him jump out of his trance. He had been watching a certain plush in the claw machine - it was a little corgi plush that looked very much like Mongryeong, and he just found it so sweet.

 

He was a bit tired. They had already queued for three bigger attractions and the last one still had him feel a bit nauseous. It was very much fun, but all he wanted was to sit and rest for a little bit - maybe grab something to eat.

 

“It’s okay.” He shrugged, walking away from the machine. He knew that those were more often than not just swindles, the toys would always be too heavy for the claws, falling off before you could lead it above the opening. 

 

“I’m a pro at this.” Chanyeol said as he tilted his chin up, rubbing his hands before he took out his wallet to find some coins. Baekhyun chewed on his lower lip, watching him do so. 

 

The sound of the coin being engulfed by the machine echoed loudly in their ears and Chanyeol’s eyes suddenly turned darker as he squinted them, focusing on the soft toy he was aiming for. The music started, it was an old mix of retro and electro beats, and the little bulb of colored lights were flashing as the countdown was showing the seconds left. With his hand on the window, Chanyeol moved the joystick so the claw would be aligned to the corgi toy. After a few seconds of reflection, he pressed on the trigger button, the claw descending, and effectively grabbing the desired toy. Baekhyun held his breath, and probably did Chanyeol too. The claw moved towards the opening, however, just before it was reached, the corgi slipped from the claw and the music stopped, Baekhyun’s expectations crashing down with it.

 

“Schnitzel.” Chanyeol lightly punched the machine, effectively disappointed by his performance. 

 

“Meh, it’s fine.” Baekhyun elbowed him in the ribs. “Let’s go.”

 

Chanyeol almost choked when Baekhyun’s fingers curled around his wrist, and the boy pulled him out of the claw machines’ alley. His digits were a bit cold, Chanyeol wanted to take them in his warmth and and bury both their hands in his pocket, however he thought that Baekhyun probably would find it too bold, so he refrained from doing so. This, this simple little touch meant already so much, he was scared to even breathe in case it would break the moment. 

 

“Hey, let’s do this instead.” He said with a small voice as he pointed toward another booth. 

 

“Okay, I’m super-duper pro at this.” Chanyeol said with even more confidence, trying to seem assured as he walked toward the shooting stand. 

 

There were cans aligned in a shelf and you had to shoot down ten of them with the gun to win a plush. Baekhyun walked up to him.

 

“I can do it for myself, you know.” He said with a small amused smile, but Chanyeol didn’t loosen up. He was set on winning something for Baekhyun. That’s how it always happened in movies - it always looked easy too. 

 

“You should trust my skills more.” He replied as he handed the cash to the guy in charge of the booth.

 

He was given a gun, and without further ado, he leaned, getting into a shooting position, eyes set on the target. The cans weren’t even that far - he could do it. 

 

And so he shot. With all the focus he could gather, his eyes didn’t wander away from the target, and he shot, shot, shot. 

 

But he missed them all.

 

“Seriously, let me do this.” Baekhyun chuckled gently, a hand on Chanyeol’s shoulder pushing him aside softly. 

 

It was with a pout that Chanyeol did so. Baekhyun took the gun after handing cash to the man. There seemed to be a shift in his stance and in his gaze, like a sort of veil of confidence that Chanyeol recognized. It was the same that Baekhyun had when he would draw his bow. It was the stance of a conqueror, the stance of someone who knew they would win. It was the Fearless Moonbeam - he was back. 

 

Baekhyun didn’t take the same position as Chanyeol. Instead of leaning on the counter, he pressed his pelvis against it, pressing the gun to his right cheek, just as how he would when he would press the string of his bow against his lips. With his gaze unwavering, he stood like this for a while, staring at the cans - and then shot.

 

It came with the resonating clink of little plastic ball hitting the metallic can, pushing it against the back of the shelf on which it bounced before collapsing. Chanyeol’s eyes widened in surprise, meanwhile Baekhyun’s expression didn’t change. He simply moved a bit on his left, keeping the same position and shot again. The second can fell. And he moved, and shot, and moved, and shot, and moved. Chanyeol was speechless, the sound of each can falling ringing loudly in his mind, like an echo in his heart.

 

Baekhyun was so bewitching like this, when he behaved as if he was in complete control of every atom that would brush past his body, and he would use the synergy absorbed from those environmental atoms and make the world spin according to his every desire. Just like this, he had each and every can fall one after the other in the same, rhythmic and polished movement.

 

Chanyeol was speechless. Baekhyun placed the gun back on the table with much grace and solemnity, still watching the fallen cans with a sceptical frown, probably studying his shots. 

 

“Just, how do you even do this?” Chanyeol inhaled, voice muffled by his admiration. 

 

Baekhyun turned to look at him, surprised yet amused.

 

“You just focus.” He shrugged, a small foxy smile dancing on his lips. Chanyeol pouted at his reply.

 

“I was focused too.” He sounded childish, he knew it, but he just really wanted to win that toy for Baekhyun.

 

“You were focusing on the price, not on the target.” Baekhyun took the plush from the booth tender, thanking him before he poked the corgi’s plastic muzzle against Chanyeol’s nose as they walked away. “Here, for you.”

 

It had been said simply, like one would talk about the weather. Chanyeol found himself with a corgi toy in his arms, and Baekhyun was walking ahead of him, walking, farther away.

 

It then dawned on him. It dawned on him that he didn’t want to see this back. He didn’t want to always be one step behind Baekhyun. He wanted to be walking side by side with him, to be holding his hand as they would walk. Together. 

 

_ I’m in love with him _ , he thought.

 

It dawned on him just like this, just like snowflakes would gently pile on the ground in winter.

 

He wanted Baekhyun for himself, and that’s what he went for. 

He realized too late that he had caught Baekhyun’s hand, pulling him back, taking a step forward, aligning their feet on the same line. 

He realized way too late that he had let the words on his mind slip out of his mouth.

 

_ I’m in love with him _ , he had said out loud.

 

Baekhyun’s eyes were wide, when he realized they were staring into his - trembling. Scared. 

Chanyeol chewed on his lower lip, letting his thumb draw a line along Baekhyun’s knuckles, before he tried to thread their fingers together. But Baekhyun’s hand was rigid, unresponsive. He pulled his hand away, slowly, away from Chanyeol’s, as if in slow motion, every picture was being engraved on the back of Chanyeol’s eyelids. 

 

_ Nonsense,  _ Baekhyun chuckled, sounding far more aghast than happy, but he was trying a smile although the corner of his lips were twitching. He was taking a step back. A step away from Chanyeol.

 

And Chanyeol smiled too. He heard something loud, and it took him some seconds to realize that it was the sound of his own heart beating erratically against his ribcage that he was hearing, his heart crying blood into his veins, crying the tears that he had concealed with a broken smile. It was like all the sounds around him had faded into a blurry murmur, and all he could hear was his heartbeat. Pounding, pounding, pounding, pounding pounding _ pounding _ .

 

And it blew him, how Baekhyun had simply brushed his feelings away just like this, the nonchalant ‘ _ nonsense _ ’ coming to judge the veracity of his feelings, labelling without the proper right to do so. Rejecting him. Rejecting, rejecting, rejecting, rejecting rejecting  _ rejecting _ .

 

_ Right _ , Chanyeol just let the word roll off the curve of his lips. 

 

Right. He buried his hands in his pocket. Right, he gave the sincerest smile he could to Baekhyun, feeling his lips stretch despite the cold - despite the blizzard in his mind and heart. 

 

Right. He walked away, not looking back, not ceasing his smile until he was far away enough to let it crumble in a quiver, teeth coming to bite violently at his lower lip to suppress the sobs that were threatening to come out.

  
  


_ Right. _

 

_ This was all nonsense. _

 


	3. Chapter 3

[ Chopin's Prelude opening 28 #24 ](https://youtu.be/EHvDKalsdsY) \- Maurizio Pollini 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

**_Chapter three._ **

  
  
  


**_\-----------------_ **

_ It's been a long, long time since I've memorized your face. It's been four hours now since I've wandered through your place. And when I sleep on your couch I feel very safe. And when you bring the blankets I cover up my face _

_ I do. Love you. I do love you. _

_ And when you play guitar I listen to the strings buzz. The metal vibrates underneath your fingers. And when you crochet I feel mesmerized and proud _

_ And I would say I love you but saying it out loud is hard. So I won't say it at all and I won't stay very long. But you are life I needed all along. I think of you as my brother although that sounds dumb _

_ And words are futile devices _

 

**_-Futile devices, Sufjan Stevens_ **

**_\-----------------_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He could feel it, the pain. From the inside of his wrist, right where the tendon was wrapped to his bone, and up till the middle of his forearm - like a tide of liquid fire rushing back and forth, lapping at his flesh. But it didn’t come close to the pain he was trying to forget. It didn’t make up for the claws that were penetrating in his chest, like nails digging into wood as they were being hammered deeper with each hit, trying to break through his air supplies while his heart was feeling so constricted from the pressure. So he didn’t stop. He kept shooting, shooting, shooting.

 

He hadn’t even bothered to turn on the lights of the archery room, shooting blindly, only barely illuminated by the moonlight that was filtering from the narrow windows against the ceiling. His arm was following the same tedious movement, drawing at the string, arrows slashing the air without cessation, hitting the target messily, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to feel. Feel the pain. Feel the pain to forget the one that he had been feeling for so long he couldn't even remember when it had started. 

 

His phone rang. Again. It was the tenth time that night. It was his mother again, he knew it. He knew by just how heavy the device felt in his pocket, trembling as if it was scared too. But he didn’t pick it up.

 

His hand was shaking, fingers numb and stiff, the pain almost rendering him mad. There was a loud noise that filled the room, felt like a deafening menacing echo - it took him some moments to realize it was his own erratic breathing. Yet he kept shooting, although he couldn’t even feel his fingers anymore, and the string against his pads felt like nothing - as if there was nothing. They could barely hold the string, shaking so, so much, as if he was playing a sorrowful tune on piano despite himself, a melody that depicted the tragic tones that his life kept taking, just like Chopin’s preludes interpreted by Maurizio Pollini that his father liked to listen to. They just twitched, his fingers, and every single little move was like a dart sent to his sick tendon that had his respiration hitch. 

 

He didn’t understand what was happening when suddenly the arrow he was holding fell to the ground and he felt a new pain, like a slap in the face that followed a very loud snapping sound and he immediately fell to his knees, his hands going for the side of his face where he had taken the blow. 

 

It was wet. When he looked at his palm, he saw there were tears, mixed with some faints drops of blood that looked oddly like grenadine on his trembling and aching hand. His broken bow which had snapped was laying on the floor pathetically beside him, and as he stared at it, all he could see was a representation of what his life was. Broken pieces. All was just broken pieces that he had failed to adjust together. 

 

Chanyeol’s voice was still running in his mind. The confession ringing like a threat. The words of realization that had no right to be uttered in the open, in front of the whole world.  _ I’m in love with him _ . Those words were haunting him. 

 

Baekhyun could still feel it, the tremor that had struck him - the fear that he had felt, as if he had been uncovered, wondering for laps of some seconds if the words, the confession, had escaped from Chanyeol’s mouth or his. 

 

_ Nonsense _ , he had blurted automatically, like a shield that also shot arrows. To protect himself, he had wounded Chanyeol. Chanyeol who had despite it all offered him a smile. 

 

It was that smile that kept haunting Baekhyun, like a scar on the back of his eyelids that he couldn’t unsee. 

 

With his palms pressed on the floor, he watched his hand tremble uncontrollably, looking so frail, while teardrops stained the parquet floor. He pressed his forehead on them, on the tears, on the floor, curling his hands into fists, restraining the scream that was building up in his chest and that he was sure would have his ribs implode if he ever let it out.

 

His phone rang again in his pocket, but the pain was so tenacious he couldn’t even find himself thinking about it. 

  
  
  
  
  


*******

  
  
  
  


He couldn’t move. It was as if his body was grounded into the soil and had taken root, like his every limb weighed tons, he just couldn’t move. Even breathing seemed to be difficult, his chest heavy. There was a never-ending veil of darkness above him, some lighter shades moving oh so slowly - pollution clouds in the night sky that tried to make their way God only knew where. A breeze passed, like an angel going for heaven’s staircase. Chanyeol’s hair danced with the wind, a delicate muffled pointe work, some strands falling against his nose. He didn’t bother to push them away from his sight. The breeze would come and go again - it would do its job. 

 

They had taken away the mattress. It was probably for the best. The rain would have gotten to it and made it the home of moistness and rot. He was lying on the bed slats, body curled in his humongous red padded coat while his fingers tasted the wood under their pads. 

The bedframe was so small now, he had to fold his legs to be sure he fit. Back then they used to spend their afternoons there bathing in the sun, curled against each other when their health would permit them to do so. Now he could barely fit here on his own. 

 

She used to like coming here when she could, always asking Chanyeol to bring his guitar although he barely knew how to play. She used to say he had a nice voice - that there was something to it that, beyond doubt, tasted just like a nice homemade pound cake that had just been fetched out of the oven. He was her taste of the outside world, she liked to say. The presence that made her feel as if she was a normal child, and not just one that had spent half her life in and out of the hospital. Chanyeol had liked those words, that comparison. He never had had pound cake back then, but from the way she talked about it, it sounded like something absolutely amazing, so he liked it. 

 

He could still remember the first time he had actually had homemade pound cake. It had been after she had left. He had requested it from his mother. He had just wanted to try - maybe understand how she had used to view him. It had been warm and soft, melting on the tongue almost, buttery yet savory, slightly burning his tongue. He liked that image, so he had tried to stick to it. Stay the warm and soft, marginally burning person that she envisioned him as. 

 

The wind blew again, harder, completely messing up his hair. With a sigh, Chanyeol pushed it away from his face. Even while lying down like this, he could see the mounts surrounding Seoul, the tiny thousands of lights that shone on the city where the stars he had never been able to see. They liked to come here back then with Seulbin - her dream she used to say, was to see the stars for real once the both of them would be healthy again and out of the hospital. She liked to call it a pirate’s ship. As she had spent most of her childhood in this hospital, imagination had been important to her, a means to get out of the medical routine she was bound to grow up with. The hospital was the pirate ship on which she had been kidnapped. She liked to say that Chanyeol was the friendly pirate, with his missing leg. He looked just as so, bearing a plastic prosthesis instead of the wooden leg. She would say that Chanyeol was the friendly pirate who had been the reason she had stopped crying in her prison, and that the bed on the roof, it was their spot, the bed, was their crow’s nest on which Chanyeol would bring her to look at the stars at night and show her that there was a whole world awaiting for her behind the hospital’s walls. 

 

His fingers moved, grazed the wood where their names were still written with the waterproof marker they had once stolen from a nurse. It had washed out a bit, but it was still there, with the chocolate fingerprints they had left too. Carving their presence. His fingers travelled from her name, drawing along the faded letters, before he reached for his fingerprints. They were a bit smaller. He had grown since then, he realized with a smile. Then, his fingers travelled to the second fingerprints. Hers. Seulbin’s. They were even smaller. He left his hand there, unmoving. How big would the fingerprints have been, he wondered, had she still been around. 

 

It was there that he had first touched her. Through the fabric of her green hospital gown, he had slipped his fingers in her warmth. They were young back then, inexperienced. She had curled her fingers around the nape of his neck, for the lack of hair to thread them into, and she had emitted muffled moans mixed with chuckles. Chanyeol had probably been a bit brusque, too keen on making things right, but certainly not doing them the right way. They had stopped before anything had really happened - she had felt sick, Chanyeol had said she didn’t have to push herself. 

 

It had been the only time he had seen her cry.

 

It was him that night, who felt like crying. The bed was too small, and there was no one with him but the dull pain in his chest and the word that rang in his mind.  _ Nonsense _ .

 

Of course it was nonsense. He knew better. It had been completely futile and even selfish of him to confess, when the conditions were such. When he had nothing to give. It was a good thing that Baekhyun had rejected him.

 

But it didn't hurt any less.

 

His whole body was in pain. A different kind of pain than the one he had been feeling each day for a while. It was a sort of pain that he had felt only once - for a long time. When Seulbin had passed away from her cancer. It was the pain of grief, of love that went away leaving the owner who lost it only with a gaping hole in their chest that loneliness only stretched bigger. It was like his heart was pounding in the open, vulnerable and exposed, and there was no one to set his hand on it and whisper words of ‘it's going to be fine’ before kissing his lips with love. He only had his own hand to hide his vulnerability, and he wasn't sure he had enough strength to do this on his own. 

 

For a second, he had thought that he could lean on Baekhyun, that Baekhyun would have accepted him and his burden of worries. That Baekhyun would have had the love that Chanyeol needed to bandage his exposed heart. But Baekhyun had rejected him. Baekhyun had been scared, scared by Chanyeol and the weight of his burden, and he had spoken the truth. It truly was nonsense. 

 

It was nonsense of Chanyeol to think that anyone would have been courageous enough to love a ticking bomb like him. 

 

He sighed out his pain heavily, although it didn't make him feel lighter. 

 

He knew he had to go. A nurse would have soon came to fetch him and scold him for staying so long outside in the cold. But he didn't want to. Bringing his knees to his chest, he curled himself into a ball, feeling the slats cracking under his weight. Like this, he let the cold hug his body, for it was all he could have since she was gone, and he knew that hoping for anything else was nonsense.

  
  
  
  
  


*******

  
  
  
  
  


Time passed and the season progressed, the cold setting itself in the air and getting ready to stay for some long month. Christmas was right around the corner, just a mere two weeks away.

 

They hadn't talked for three weeks.

 

Chanyeol had simply stopped coming to the archery room. Maybe Baekhyun should have been the one going out of his way to look for the guitarist, but he could barely see the light. His days, when not spent in class, were spent in the archery room. He had even started skipping some classes, getting an excuse as he was sent to the Taereung Training Center for a whole week. Coach Choi had given him the opportunity to train in the same conditions as the Olympians did. It had been a taste of his biggest dreams for Baekhyun. Being in Taereung like this, although he was only preparing for the World Championships - was the first step toward his final goal which were the next Olympic games.

 

So he had spent his days and many parts of his nights training, shooting more and more arrows, lifting weights, running, and doing other exercises that would all help him to get in the best conditions.

 

However, when he had came back to Hongik and stepped into the archery room for the first time after weeks, his heart had dropped a bit when he had noticed that Chanyeol wasn't there. For the whole day, every time someone opened the door, he would stiffen, listening closely to see if he would recognize the sound of the steps that had become like a familiar song to him, to see if he would smell the wafting smell of chicken welcoming itself in his nostrils. But it didn't. Chanyeol didn't come. Not on the day Baekhyun came back, and neither on the next ones.

 

It was understandable, he told himself. It was how things were supposed to go.

Yet it all felt so wrong.

 

For some days, he had tried to convince himself that it didn't bother him. That he wasn't missing Chanyeol. He had almost succeeded into making himself believe so, until one ordinary day, he caught a glimpse of the boy.

 

Chanyeol was sitting on the same little brick wall, with his puffy bright red padded coat, guitar on his lap and little styrofoam cup beside him. He was playing a tune, singing softly and smiling to all the passersby  who would be kind enough to drop a coin for him and his cause. Baekhyun found himself leaning against the same tree, hiding behind the trunk and watching the guitarist play. It was then that the feeling surged through him. Like a tidal wave, it came to crash against his heart so strongly that it wavered for a moment, and reminded him of just how much he was missing Chanyeol. Breathing suddenly started getting more difficult and he just scurried off, hiding somewhere where no one was to witness how he lost it again.

 

Chanyeol had looked so happy back there, playing and singing. Baekhyun should have felt content - this was the way things were supposed to be. Yet he couldn't help this ugly bitter feeling to grow inside of him. All he wanted was to run and bury himself into the oversized floaty coat and never get out of the warm embrace.

 

But he had no right to.

 

He had no right to, and yet that night he found himself in front of  _ Big Cock Chicken _ , hand on the doorknob and teeth salvaging his lips as he second guessed what he was about to do.

 

He had no right to be there, but his legs had led him all the way, and he had only realized where he had been going when he had arrived in front of the restaurant. From the inside he could hear happy chatters, and the mellow sound of an old rock ballad he didn't know the name of.

 

He was about to turn back on his steps when the door cracked open, startling him, and Seulgi was there.

 

"Hey." She said with a soft smile. She was as pretty as ever tonight. "You won't come inside, right?"

 

Baekhyun munched on the inside of his cheek. She spoke as if she knew. He sighed.

 

"You don't have to worry, he isn't there tonight." She took his hand and led him into the restaurant. Warmth engulfed him and he suddenly had more troubles breathing. He pulled on his scarf and unzipped his coat, trying to get some air. She set him by the bar, telling him to sit on a stool, which he did, albeit a bit shyly. He didn't deserve so much kindness - she had no idea what terrible things he had done.

 

She disappeared for a bit in the kitchen, leaving him the time to notice that there was a new waitress he had never seen before. Maybe she was replacing Chanyeol. He wondered where Chanyeol was too. Was he performing tonight? He hadn't gone back to  _ The Rain in The Sea _ since last time. He had liked it, maybe he should go again with Jongdae.

 

"Baekhyun, is that you?" A voice suddenly pulled him out of his mooning. "It is, goodness gracious!" Chanyeol's mother beamed as she walked up to him and cupped his face in such a motherly way, he found his breath cut. "It's been a while since you've been here, I was missing you."

 

In the way she pouted, Baekhyun realized just how much Chanyeol was taking from her. It unsettled him. He smiled clumsily.

 

"I'm sorry, I've been busy lately."

 

"Practicing hard I guess." She combed his hair. "Chanyeol told me. You've qualified for the World Championships, this is so great. Congratulations, my son!"

 

He stilled at the word, feeling something in his heart, like it had cracked a bit. Those words. Those words he had yearned to hear for such a long time pronounced this way. It was weird, he hadn't expected them, especially not coming from someone other than his own mother.

 

He only realized his eyesight had gotten blurry when arms pulled him into a tender embrace.

 

"Hey, Baekhyun." Chanyeol's mother rubbed his back. "Why are you tearing up, child?"

 

He didn't know. He had no idea why he even was suddenly submerged by such a voracious wave of sadness. He had only came here to get a glimpse of Chanyeol, but coming here just filled him with such a wave of nostalgia. It only made him realize how much Chanyeol had brought into his dull world - and how much he had lost by pushing the boy away. He had brought it on himself, and now he had no right to yearn for things he hadn't protected when they were his.

 

"You must be hungry, let me give you something." Mrs Lee said, and she was about to walk back into the kitchen, but Baekhyun stopped her before she could.

 

"Don't." He whispered. "I am fine." He forced a smile. "I only wanted to come here for a bit, I was missing the atmosphere." He said like one was talking about the color of the sky, so simply, and although it was obvious she could see through him, she didn't try to push him to say what was really on his heart.

 

Instead, she fetched something out of her appron's pocket.

 

"Take this," she instructed as she handed him some coupons, "free delivery coupons. You're a great customer, we give them out sometimes to loyal ones."

 

He looked at the little blue pieces of paper on his palm. He didn't deserve that either, but he still pocketed them, whispering an honest thank you.

 

When he left the restaurant, Mrs Lee couldn't help but notice how hunched his shoulders were.

 

"He must have it hard." She sighed under her breath.

 

Seulgi who was standing next to her took her hand and gave it a light squeeze, leaning her head against the older woman's shoulder.

 

"They are both so dumb, really."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

He entered the restaurant greeted by the tingling of the bell. Pulling on his scarf, he sighed as he felt the wool scrape the back of his neck. He barely had the time to slouch down on the stool next to the counter when his mother rushed over with the plate she was still wiping in her hand, Seulgi following behind.

 

She only hugged him and said nothing. Chanyeol knew she was dying to know, but didn’t dare ask. Smiling, he took her slightly wrinkled hands in his and kissed her knuckles. Seulgi was leaning on the counter next to him and they exchanged a small smile.

 

“It’s okay.” He simply murmured, closing his eyes and exhaling deeply through his nose. 

 

He felt hands on his face, warm and soft, always so tender as the fingers drew lines on his cheeks and cupped them. Lips pressed themselves on the crown of his head and stayed there. For a while.

 

“You don’t smell like a baby anymore.” He heard his mother whisper as she breathed in. “When you were small, the smell of baby powder on the top of your head was always so strong. I miss it.” The fingers caressed Chanyeol’s cheeks as his mother parted to look at him.

 

He grinned at her. “Should I wash my hair with baby shampoo?” 

 

His mother only replied with a chuckle, pushing back one of his stray strand of hair behind his ear. Suddenly, the doorbell tingled again. Chanyeol’s brows furrowed - it was strange. There weren’t supposed to be any customers at this hour, they had closed the shop. Leaning on the side to see past his mother’s shoulders, his eyes widened in surprise when he saw him.

 

He almost tripped over his own feet as he made it for the door where the person was.

 

“Dad!”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It felt cold inside, was the first thing he thought as he arrived home and proceeded to take his coat off. Mongryeong immediately bolted towards him, happily wiggling his butt in front of him. Baekhyun hadn’t had the time to really take much care of the poor corgi in the past few days, and it made him feel really bad, but most of the times when he would attempt to walk his dog outside, his mother would make some remark about him slacking off. And with him away for a whole week when he had been to Taereung, he had come back home to a depressed Mongryeong. He kneeled to rub the corgi’s sides, hugging him as he came to nuzzle himself against his stomach. 

 

Baekhyun could have done this for the whole day, but he knew that his mother was in the lounge. He could hear her typing from the corridor. Like the sound of bullets striking a cement wall. He held his breath as he walked in the room, his dog happily trotting behind him. It was something he would always do, as if he had grown with the feeling that his mere breathing was enough to upset his mother when she would be working. He had grown up without breathing around her, and like a habit it had become to feel that he couldn't breath around her. She was suffocating him.

 

His mother was there, sitting by the counter, her back straight and rectangle-shaped glasses on her nose making her features seem even sharper. It didn't help that her hair was held in the same too-tight bun from which no strand could even think of escaping astray. 

 

She didn't look up, why bother. She was barely blinking, even that was an obstacle to her productivity. 

 

Baekhyun couldn't help but compare her to Mrs. Lee. The way she had greeted him, as if he belonged just there, like one was welcomed home. Her smile so warm and embrace so tender, as she called him ‘son’. When was the last time his own mother had even called him that? 

 

“Why are you standing there.” It wasn't even a question, it came out in the tone of a reproach. “You're wasting your time.”

 

“Can I stay at dad's place?” Baekhyun asked breathlessly, out of oxygen, he tried to regain it silently, but his lungs were demanding for more. 

 

It had escaped from his lips on his own, and he had instinctively dug his nails in his palms when he had realized just what he had dared asking. The forbidden. 

 

“He isn't your father anymore. He isn't worth being called so. Only proper men can be referred as such.” She had stopped typing, looking up to meet Baekhyun's eyes. 

 

It was there that he realized. With a shrill crawling up his spine, he realized just how long it had been since he had met those eyes - his mother's eyes. Yet, he also realized how much he  _ hadn't  _ missed them. 

 

Kneeling, he picked up Mongryeong in his arms, the corgi so happy it started to lick Baekhyun's cheek while making little yipping sounds, panting excitedly. Baekhyun hugged him closer, going up in his room without uttering another word. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“How long are you staying for?” Chanyeol had his head resting on his father's shoulder, cuddled against him as they sat on the floor around their table. 

 

His mother had made an enormous meal, having prepared all their favorite dishes. Seulgi was there with them too - Mr. Park liked to say she was the daughter he had never had. Chanyeol felt as if he could burst of happiness, everyone looked so joyful, it had been so long since they had been reunited like this. 

 

His father worked in Busan and had a very demanding job that only permitted him to come back home in Seoul twice a month or so. It was hard. Chanyeol was a family person and to him, there was nothing more important than this, and when his father had announced to him that he would move to Busan for his job, Chanyeol had felt betrayed deep down. But he hadn't held it against his father, he knew the latter was also sacrificing himself for his family by doing this, so all Chanyeol could do was to be grateful that he had such a supportive family that encouraged him toward his dreams. 

 

“They gave me a whole week off this time, since I will have to work over Christmas too.” His father replied as he nodded. Chanyeol felt his heart skip down a bit at the news. He was happy, yet it was a shame that his father wouldn't be with them for Christmas. But he understood. “Don't worry, I'll send you all gifts through mail.” He beamed as he picked some cabbage  _ kimchi _ with his chopsticks and set it on his rice. 

 

Chanyeol was about to take another spoonful of rice when suddenly, his throat got clogged up and he started coughing madly, the rice flying out of his spoon and onto Seulgi’s face who looked more than disgusted. 

 

“Ew, just, ew.” She shuddered, shaking her head as to make the grains fall from her locks, but they were stuck, sticking like a kid’s bogey against the wall. The thought of it had her so disgusted she started kicking Chanyeol under the table, making him yelp not quite in a manly way. 

 

When he noticed a grain of rice stuck in her bangs just above her nose, he burst out of laughter, the sound of it like a warming chant that lifted the frown away from his parents’ faces.

 

They exchanged a glance, but said nothing and put on a smile. 

 

Good times shouldn't be wasted with worries. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

The stars were trying to shine on his ceiling. They weren't as bright, but he could still distinguish the shape of a few of them. Mongryeong was sleeping in his snuggle bed, his rear paw sometimes kicking the empty air as his right ear would flap while he was laying in a sploot position. 

 

The air was heavy in the room, the heater probably set a bit too high. Baekhyun had already taken off his shirt, lying in his briefs on the bed, above the cover,hands resting on his stomach. 

 

His skin was smooth around his navel, he found himself realizing while the side of his thumb absent-mindedly caressed it, forming circles around the dip. His fingers traveled down, and he sighed when their tips grazed along the elastic of his underwear. He pressed his palm flat against his abdomen, closing his eyes and holding his breath. The fabric still felt a bit rigid against the tips of his fingers. He brought one arm up, covering his eyes with the crook of his elbow. He stayed like this for a while, letting his fingers draw random shapes on his lower abdomen, feeling the goosebumps appear under his touches. He could hear the clock on his wall ticking. He moved his head to the side, burying lips and nose in the birth of his shoulder. 

 

His hand had traveled past the waistband, fingers sliding under the elastic. He only realized it when there was something warm and hard in his hand, and the coldness of his fingers against the heated shaft had him shiver with an exhale that he muffled against his shoulder. 

 

He wasn't really sure of what he was doing, with his face still hidden in his elbow, his own lips kissing his shoulder and his thumb like an entity of its own drawing lines along the slit of his shaft, feeling the beads of precome sticking to his phalanx. 

 

He pulled at the corner of his cushion, pulling it so that he brought it on his head and hugged it tight against his face as his hand started to move, move, move, move move move. 

 

And he clawed his fingers into the pillow, pressing it so hard against his face as his hands took care of his heavy shaft under his briefs. The sensations were crippling up, like lava slowly boiling up his veins, making his back arch up and his toes curl as he tugged on the pillowcase with his teeth, trying not to let the sounds of pleasure roll off his tongue and fill the silence of the night. 

It was like a spell that took over his body as his hips trembled despite himself, bucking up while his hand tugged more and more, until images of curls against straight clavicle where a little cross was nested appeared like a tattoo on the back of his eyelids, and then it morphed into a dimpled smile and melted-chocolate eyes that delved onto the secret abysses of his soul as a deep velvety voice breathed. 

 

_ Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun. Say my name, Baekhyun. Baek, Hyun,  _ the sultry madeleine-tasting voice would stress on each syllable of his name,  _ Baek, Hyun.  _

 

It was with a whisper that he came in his hand, his voice shamefully moaning into the pillow. 

 

_ Chanyeol.  _

 

He was breathless, trying to catch his breath. He had to blink his eyes a few times to get his eyesight back rightly as he was feeling dizzy from the lack of oxygen. He felt so dirty as he laid on his side, thighs sweaty and sticking against each other while his hand laid limp in front of his face, his thumb moved up and down his index, where a white liquid, a bit slimy and sticky adorned it, reflecting very faintly the moonlight. Baekhyun watched it, how when he would press his forefinger and his thumb together, the cum would make a thread between the two fingers as he parted them away from each other. He felt so dirty. 

 

Closing his eyes, he brought his forefinger to his mouth. Nostrils trembling, he sucked on it slowly, trying not to think of him. Not to think of how he had came on the thought of Chanyeol. Trying not to think of how much he just wished he could bury his face against his collarbone where the wooden cross would be and just disappear into him. 

  
  
  
  


*******

  
  
  
  
  
  


The sound of the arrows ploughing into the targets would usually always ease his mind, and yet it had no effect that day. Every then and now, when his hand would pull on the string of his bow, he would be reminded of the sinful things he had done with the said hand. He had no right to hold this bow, it was like a flooding feeling of shame that crippled from the tip of his fingers, like a neverending sting that only pushed the gushing feeling of mortification further into his guts. He felt so dirty. 

 

Daehyun was standing on the line next to his, shooting too. His posture was straight, and his focus seemed just on point. He reeked of confidence, almost arrogance, with his chin tilted up everytime he would bring the string against his jaw. It only had Baekhyun become more irritated. Daehyun was doing very fine. His shots which had been unsteady and too forward in the past months were rapidly gaining in accuracy, becoming more and more regular. That also made him even more arrogant. 

 

Sighing, Baekhyun closed his eyes to gain his focus back and push away all the unwanted thoughts. 

 

Suddenly, the practice room’s door slid open, the freezing winter air coming to whirl past the archers. Baekhyun’s head instinctively round to the entrance, his throat tight. There was a sort of small dropping feeling in his heart when he saw it was only Byulyi. 

 

“Were you expecting someone?” Jongdae made him jump as he pressed his cold bottle of water against the side of Baekhyun’s neck. 

 

Frowning, Baekhyun ignored him, getting back into position. But Jongdae stayed there, beside him, watching him intently with his arms crossed over his chest. Baekhyun tried not to get affected by the stare, but there was just so much judgement in it. He only shot 8 points. 

 

“Chanyeol is quite dumb, you know. Maybe even as dumb as you.” Jongdae sighed long, playing with his bottle of water in one hand, spinning it restlessly. “And he is more insecure than he seems like. Once he loses his confidence, he becomes a coward.”

 

Baekhyun took a new arrow, setting it on his bow.

 

“Why are you telling me this?” He murmured as he drew the string. It felt as if his drawing hand, his fingers, still smelled of cum. The feeling of shame intensified. He exhaled, releasing his string. 

 

“You’re not focused.” Jongdae scolded. The water was making sounds like waves crashing against rocks as he spun the bottle in his hand. Baekhyun clicked his tongue in annoyance, analyzing his shot. Still 8. 

 

“You miss him.”

 

Baekhyun froze, his hand which was about to take a new arrow stopping midway in the air, as if he was about to grab onto the hem of the coat of someone farthing away. Just as he had almost done back then, at the amusement park, when Chanyeol had suddenly walked away before Baekhyun could have said anything to catch him. 

 

His hand fell on his side.

 

“He’s waiting for you to make the first step, Hyun. After all, you’re the one who has messed up.” 

 

“He told you.” Baekhyun leaned his head back, closing his eyes. There was a smile spreading on his lips, but it certainly didn’t reach his eyes.

 

“He didn’t have to.” Jongdae’s hand wrapped itself around his wrist, and Baekhyun felt himself being pulled away from the shooting range. “I’ve been seeing him eating in his colored Thermos under the beech tree practically everyday now. There’s always another Thermos beside him, but it seems like no one ever eats what’s inside of it.” Jongdae’s hand slid into his, into the dirty one. The sinful one. “You should call him at least.”

 

Baekhyun could only stare at his feet, trying not to think of how Chanyeol would look, in his overgrown puffy red coat, seated under the beech tree hugging a Thermos to his lap with Lady Swing and Django by his side, his nose probably red and running slightly from the cold. 

 

He wondered if Jongdae could feel how dirty his hand was. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Baekhyun had no idea how much time he had spent watching his smartphone, flipping it in his hand, pressing on the home button and watching its screen light up, showing his wallpaper which was a picture of Mongryeong he had taken during one day at the park when the corgi had made it a game to bring him all the fir cones he would find. He was still a small pup back then, his ears floppy and his fluffy butt almost as big as his head that he would have troubles walking, his equilibrium not quite perfect.

 

He had spent his whole day studying his phone, pressing his forehead against his desk in class instead of listening to the lectures, thinking of Jongdae's words. Call him at least. Call him.

 

A part of him wanted to do so, but the bigger one was too apprehensive, too scared of doing so. Chanyeol had become the mirror of truth, showing Baekhyun all the things about himself he had tried to keep hidden. Facing Chanyeol would be just like facing his own demons, and that wasn't something he still was feeling up to do.

 

He was a coward.

 

Maybe it was a coincidence then, that on that same day, after his classes were done and he was on his way to the archery room, he stumbled upon the source of all his worries.

 

Well, stumbled would be a big word. Came across would probably be more fitting. Baekhyun was going down the hill that lead from the main building to the practice room. He was there again, on the little brick wall with his styrofoam cup by his side, Lady Swing on his lap as he interpreted yet another song that Baekhyun didn't know the name of. He wasn't singing this time, just playing with his usual passionate smile. His curly mane wasn't tied today, but the wind wasn't very present to bother him. In his red oversized coat, he was swinging his legs merrily, strumming on the strings of his dearest guitar. Baekhyun only realized he had stopped to face the wall the guitarist was sitting on when the music stopped, and their gazes met.

 

Chanyeol's eyes fell upon him, dark, melted chocolate orbs plunging into his. Baekhyun held his breath, digging his fisted hands deeper into his pockets. He had thought of this exact moment. He had imagined it over again and again, wondered how it would have been, if they ever crossed paths again, after all that had happened - or hadn’t happened at all - between them.

 

Chanyeol looked away, ignoring Baekhyun. That was what happened. He didn't even bother to acknowledge the archer's presence with either a greeting or a smile, not even a bow of his head. His face hadn't lit up as it always would. On the opposite, it seemed that his gaze had hardened, his music-induced smile falling off his lips as his gaze noticed Baekhyun. Then he had looked away like one looked away from an annoying fly that kept trying to nip at his flesh - he had looked back at his guitar, playing a new tune, and completely ignoring Baekhyun's existence.

 

It was more painful than any blow for the archer. It was realization. It hit him violently - realization that Chanyeol wasn’t just mad at him, and that things weren't the way they were before. Somewhere along the thin burgeoning line of their acquaintanceship Baekhyun had messed up, and now the flower of what could had been a beautiful friendship had withered before anything grandiose had even happened.

 

The pain that he had felt from his cold and estranged glance, it made Baekhyun realize that what he had with Chanyeol, the friendship the guitarist had tried to build by forcing himself into Baekhyun's dull life, was something that he had grown attached to, and it was something he hadn't cherished enough.

 

It left Baekhyun with a haunting feeling of sadness, like a bubble that had grown inside of him and suddenly popped solely by the piercing coldness Chanyeol had graced him with, letting out the sorrow and loneliness that he had tried not to feel.

 

Clenching his hands even harder in his pockets, he suddenly felt something rub against his fingers, slightly coarse against the skin. Pulling it out, Baekhyun was surprised to see a caramel candy. He had kept it in his pocket after it had been handed to him by Chanyeol back at the amusement park. The sight of it stirred something in his chest.

 

Without a word, he paced to the wall, eyes glued at his feet and teeth dug in his lower lips, he kept his head down. He probably moved a bit too brusquely, almost making the styrofoam cup collapse as he forced the caramel into it, in between the bank notes and the coins, before he strode off down the rest of the slope, feet marching in rhythm with Chanyeol's guitar strums.

 

He sped up. The notes didn't. Chanyeol seemed to be done chasing him.

  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  


If Chanyeol was done doing the chasing, that meant Baekhyun was the one meant to make a step forward, if he didn't want whatever they had to be over altogether. That was what he was trying to tell himself as he paced back and forth. In front of him, the Seoul skyline was expanding like a coat of light underneath the darkness of the nights. Artificial stars under the sky, he liked to see them as such. The mounts circling the city were there, shadows like giants about to awaken to watch over the soon-to-be-asleep capital.

 

He still had it in his hand, the coupon he had used for his delivery. On it was the name of the restaurant, his thumb drawing over it again and again, smoothing the crease he had imposed as he had kept it folded since Chanyeol's mother had given them to him. In his other hand, he was holding the leash, Mongryeong happily pawing at the pebbles on the ground, wiggling his rear and skipping there and about, startling his own self with the sound that the pebbles would make as he would scratch on them with his small claws.

 

Getting a bit cold, Baekhyun decided to sit on the ground. It was a sort of arranged pebble ground that gave view on the nightscape, like a rocky sandbox that when its tarmac edge ended, gave place to a cliff, no railings whatsoever set on the rim. As he sat down, the pebbles were a bit uncomfortable, digging into his clothed rear, but he didn't care. He simply pulled at his winter coat sleeves, burying his nose in his scarf. Soon enough, Mongryeong came to climb up his lap, nestling himself between his legs and looking at him merrilly all the while jiggling his rear playfully. Baekhyun chuckled at that, attacking his dog with tummy rubs that had the corgi squirm and yelp in happiness.

 

He was suddenly cut by a deep voice that ranted:

 

"Who the hell orders chicken from the other side of the city?!"

 

Chanyeol walked up to Baekhyun with a visibly annoyed glare, coughing greasily in his sleeve. Baekhyun only looked up at him, having to twist his neck seeing how inferior he was, sitting on the floor like this.

 

"What were you thinking, ordering all the way to  _ Hongdae _ from  _ Ihwa-dong _ ? I had to run on the bus for a whole hour just to get there. Don't complain if the chicken is cold." The guitarist rolled his eyes, presenting without reverence the plastic bag that contained the fried chicken right to Baekhyun's face. The archer took it silently, giving in exchange his coupon all the while holding Mongryeong with one arm to make sure he wouldn't throw himself at the treat.

 

Chanyeol was still grumbling in annoyance, spinning restlessly on his heels, probably determining which way he would have to go to make it the shorter way down the slope he had just escalated to deliver his chicken to Baekhyun. There was steam puffing rapidly from his lips, he seemed out of breath, and he would emit little loose coughs as if trying to clear his throat and regain his breath faster. He was wearing an odd white pompom woolen beanie with red cubic reindeers knitted in a row on it, and most of his face was wrapped in a black woolen scarf which didn't hide his red nose. His cheeks were painted with pink dust too.

 

"He was missing you." Baekhyun murmured as he let go of the corgi who had gotten all hyper at the sight of Chanyeol, only holding onto the leash to make sure he wouldn't get anywhere dangerous. As soon as he was released, Mongryeong ran up to Chanyeol, skimping happily at his feet, pawing at his legs playfully.

 

It seemed to be enough to tear a small smile from the guitarist who kneeled slowly to rub the corgi's back. "Hey you, missed your papa?"

 

Mongryeong tried to nip at the fingers that were caressing him, which resulted in him spinning on himself to follow Chanyeol’s hand before he apparently got dizzy from it and dramatically collapsed on his side, making Chanyeol burst of laughter.

 

Baekhyun stayed there, sitting on the cold pebbles, watching Chanyeol playing with his dog as he hugged the plastic bag on his lap, the waft of fried chicken making his stomach slightly growl. Chanyeol was smiling now, earnestly, and it was all Baekhyun wanted to see. To see him happy. That made him already feel better.

 

As he watched Chanyeol interact with Mongryeong, he couldn't help but notice how much Chanyeol was coughing. Sometimes it was so much that he would have to stop moving during play, and it sounded as if he was about to cough a lung out, his whole body jerking, and the noise coming out of his chest comparable to a collapsing cavern.

 

"Have you caught a cold?" Baekhyun spoke up finally, his voice slightly hoarse from lack of use.

 

Chanyeol squinted his eyes as they fell on Baekhyun, giving him a dirty glare. "How wouldn't I when you made me come up all the way here under this cold?"

 

Baekhyun bit down on his lip, effectively feeling a tinge of guilt. Chanyeol noticed it, and although it was now his turn to feel guilty, he said nothing. Only buried his hands in his pockets and turned to look at the nightscape. It was beautiful. It made him feel a bit like when he was on the hospital's rooftop. He coughed again, and feeling some phlegm come up his throat, he swallowed it back before sighing. It wasn't Baekhyun's fault. How would it be?

 

"C'mere."

 

Chanyeol blinked, feeling as if he had heard someone talking to him. When he looked down, he noticed that Baekhyun was patting on the gravelly floor beside him with the hand that was holding the leash, holding up the plastic bag up with his other hand. "Let's share."

 

Chanyeol stared at the bag for a little while, listening to the breeze, how it hit against the plastic, making it rustle. Baekhyun was looking at him, gaze unwavering, lips sealed in a tightline, eyes dark, his bangs ruffled into them by the wind, but he wouldn't blink. Chanyeol gave up on the staring contest after a short while, walking to sit himself next to the insisting boy.

 

Mongryeong immediately ran up to get into Chanyeol's lap while Baekhyun took care of getting the chicken out of the newspaper and foil wrapping his mother had made in hopes it would keep it warm, but there was just no way it still was with this temperature.

 

"There's nothing more outrageous than cold chicken." He had wanted to say, but he kept it for himself. He still didn't feel like talking to Baekhyun, truth be told.

 

It wasn't that he was mad or anything. He just wasn't ready for another word to come out of Baekhyun's mouth, always scared for the rejection he didn't completely let happen the last time to be pronounced entirely. First, he was trying to manage his heart for it.

 

There was a drumstick of fried chicken that appeared in his field of vision, Baekhyun handing it to him. Who took it without a word and proceeded to eat it, trying not to pout too much at how untasty it was when cold.

 

They ate in silence, both proceeding from time to time to peel some bits of meat off their drumsticks to hand feed it to Mongryeong who seemed so fond of the treat that he would always lick at their greasy fingers and they would have to brush them against their pants before picking another piece of chicken.

 

It was peaceful, maybe a bit cold. From time to time, Chanyeol's throat would get clogged up and he would have to cough. At some point, Baekhyun just handed him something. It was a simple silver and black Thermos he had been hiding under his coat all along.

 

"It's lemon tea." He simply said, pushing the insulating bottle against Chanyeol's thigh. The latter set his hand on it but said nothing. He saw Baekhyun bury his chin in his knees, hugging them to his chest. The boy seemed to be lost in thoughts, eyes somewhere in Seoul, looking at the skyline. Was he even seeing it through his bangs? Chanyeol wondered.

 

His fingers were itching to reach for said hair, comb it back, maybe let his hand rest on the cheek for a while. But he suppressed such thoughts, for they were dangerous. He couldn't bear them. They would only bring heartbreak in the end.

 

"Do you know what love is?” He heard Baekhyun mutter after a while.

 

It startled him, making his heart pound in his chest so suddenly. For a second, as Baekhyun didn't turn to look at him but kept fixing on the horizon, he thought that maybe he had only imagined it. But then Baekhyun curled a bit more into himself, slowly rocking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until he seemed to find a comfortable enough position and he stopped, looking so small as he was completely hugging his legs against himself.

 

"I wonder what love is.” He said before burying his face into his folded arms, muffling his voice a bit.

 

Chanyeol's hands went to the ground. The pebbles felt cold against his palms, digging slightly into the flesh. What is love? What an idiosyncratic question. It left Chanyeol to ponder. He exhaled through his nose, but was cut by a small unexpected cough. It didn't seem to bother Baekhyun, who kept talking. To himself. To Chanyeol. To whom, who knows.

 

Chanyeol had never tried to define love. To him, it was just something he felt. Just like he felt love for his guitar, or like he felt love for his mother, or like he had felt love for Seulbin. 

 

Love was something he had never tried to put words on, never tried to give it distinct shape or color so that as you saw it you would know,  _ oh, this is love _ . Love was love was love was love.

 

Maybe his love for his tender Lady Swing was a humongous pine tree-colored triangle, meanwhile, the love he bore for his mother was an endless, borderless deep red circle. And the love he had felt for Seulbin was a tangerine trapezium, and the love he  _ now _ felt for Seulbin was a very small, pink pebble with no definite shape. 

 

It wasn't definite. Love wasn’t definite. He had no idea. There were billions, trillions, infinite sorts of loves and ways of loving, and it was both thrilling and terrifying.

 

He just couldn't reply. All he could say was that he loved Baekhyun. He loved Baekhyun in a huge, beaming way that had him craving to hold the archer in his arms and that had his soul crying to be able to show and express his love and adoration for Byun Baekhyun.

 

That was all he could say without feeling lost.

 

“It's funny how when you're just a kid, you think you really know what love is." Baekhyun said as he unwrapped his arms from around his legs, and let them settle on the ground in a crossed position, making their knees touch and sending a shiver to jolt up in Chanyeol's spine.  "It's so simple." He shrugged. "You're in love and you believe it. But then, adults tell you that you have no idea what love is, and that you're too young to really feel love." He chuckled, leaning his head back. 

 

There was no humor, there was only a vague emptiness to his irises. Chanyeol could only watch the way the moonlight shone on his neck, his chin casting a sultry shadow over the flesh covering his Adam’s apple. 

 

"Yet once you are an adult, you realize you have no idea what love actually is, and you find yourself missing the love you felt as a child." He turned his head slowly, eyes falling into Chanyeol's, but not quite present. Hollow. "The innocent feeling of caring for someone so much that they hold a special place in your heart.”

 

Baekhyun was lost. He was completely and utterly lost, Chanyeol could feel it. He gulped, coughing a bit, feeling slightly choked up. But there was this feeling, like a sort of heaviness that was pulling down at his heart that just kept making him uncomfortable.

 

Chanyeol loved Baekhyun and he just couldn't explain it. He just couldn't explain why, and for a moment, it made him feel lost too. It made him panic. Abruptly, he rose up from the ground, startling Mongryeong who had started dozing off on his lap.

 

He started walking away, his steps slowed down when he heard Baekhyun’s voice once more.

 

"Jongdae tells me you seem to be waiting everyday for someone with an extra Thermos under the beech tree." Chanyeol froze, breath hitching in his throat. He coughed again. "Have you found someone new to feed?"

 

There had been no spite in the way Baekhyun asked that, only pure curiosity, and maybe, maybe a silver lining of worry. But it made something rise in the pits of Chanyeol's guts, like a sort of frustration that he didn't know he had in him. Spinning on his heels, he spat:

 

"Just so you know, I do not feed just  _ anyone _ , Byun Baekhyun."

 

With that, and the grating sound of his soles on the pebbles, he walked away, down the slope he had come from.

 

It was only when he had reached the bottom and when the thing slid from his hand and fell on his foot that he realized he had taken Baekhyun's Thermos away with him. Uttering his signature childish profanities, he kneeled to pick the bottle up. However, as he set his hand on the metallic thing, dread rushed over his body. He pressed his fingers against it, again, again and again, seeing them bend more than what was supposed to be a normal angle, yet, he couldn't feel anything. He couldn't' feel what he was touching at all, as if he didn't even have a hand. He couldn't even pick the bottle up, not feeling it at all in his hold.

 

"Oh  _ duck _ !"

 

He tried so hard not to break down here and there.

  
  
  
  
  


*******

  
  
  
  
  


It had been awhile since they had some quality father-son time. To Chanyeol, his father was his role model. He adored his mother, but his father was the one who had brought him to watch his first baseball match, when he had barely learnt to run. It was his father, who had brought him to the park to throw his first ball. It was his father who would always bring him to his baseball classes. It was his father, who had supported him through his first, and all his matches.  It was his father, who had inspired Chanyeol as a child, and who had given him his passion for baseball, and his dream of one day becoming a professional player.

 

His father would always say that he was his biggest fan, but Chanyeol liked to say that his father was his idol.

 

They were in the park. The sun was setting, and the weather wasn’t the best, gray clouds hiding the usually pleasant scenery of the sunset. There weren’t many people, the wind was being unkind, but to them, it didn’t matter. They were throwing balls at each other, his father sometimes getting a bit playful and throwing curve balls at Chanyeol.

 

The guitarist was usually quite competitive, and his father knew that doing this would always spark his competitiveness. However, that evening, Chanyeol wasn’t following. His movements were a bit slow and sloppy, and many times, he managed to miss easy balls. He would often take some pauses, trying to catch back his breath, or sometimes he would be cut by fits of coughing. 

 

His father said nothing, still throwing the same balls at his son. Chanyeol didn’t like it when people worried about him, so he tried not to. But as a father, ignoring those kind of things were just too hard. 

 

He wished he was more present for his family.

  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  
  


It had been some days, since their conversation. Baekhyun had just finished his practice, and the night’s colors were already painting the sky. He was walking slowly through the park, going down the slope. But he didn’t feel like heading home. He really didn’t. 

 

There was a bench there, under some trees. His feet led him there, and it was after some long seconds that he realized that he had his phone pressed to his ear, and that he had dialed the same number again. His stomach growled, so he thought it was a good reason to do so.

 

The phone rang for a while before someone picked up. And like usual, a soft, warm and motherly voice replied to him.

 

“Big Cock Chicken, I am listening.”

 

Baekhyun smiled. The name of the restaurant still sounded funny to him. 

 

“Hello.” He murmured, strangely feeling a bit shy and awkward.

 

“Baekhyunnie, is that you?” Chanyeol’s mother asked. “How are you doing, son?“

 

Baekhyun couldn't help but smile at this, feeling a sort of buzzing warmth in his chest. If he had been a bit hesitant about calling at first, feeling like he was being insistent, right now, he was happy he had called. Mrs. Lee always made him feel like he was a part of their family, like he was at home among them. And to Baekhyun, this was the nicest feeling ever. 

 

“I was missing your food.” He said with a smile, bringing his knees to his chest, curled on the bench. 

 

Mrs. Lee made a surprised sound. “Isn't Yeollie giving you the Thermos I make for you every day?”

 

Baekhyun's eyes widened when he heard this. No. No. Chanyeol wasn't coming. Instead, he was sitting under a tree everyday, hugging the Thermos, Hongdae had said. 

 

Chanyeol's voice rang in his mind.  _ "Just so you know, I do not feed just  _ anyone _ , Byun Baekhyun.”  _

 

He had said it with spite. Spite, and sadness. More sadness than Baekhyun liked to see. 

 

Burying his face in his knees, he let it sink in. Chanyeol was waiting. Waiting for Baekhyun to come. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


*******

  
  
  
  
  


He just couldn't understand why she was insisting again.

 

"Do I really have to do it? Usually Seulgi is in charge of the deliveries." He pouted childishly, stomping his feet on the ground. But his mother only forced a sweet, oh so sweet smile at him, pushing the bag onto his chest before pinching at his cheek.

 

"Seulgi is busy with her upcoming exams, she needs to study." She slapped him gently on the chest, trying to get him into action.

 

"What!" He scoffed. "This ugly bear studies? And don't you think I study too?! I have exams too!" He took the plastic bag as his mother was pushing him to the front door, some of the customers giggling at the scene. It was that kind of peer pressure that always made him succumb, his mother knew it. "Are you trying to plan something?" He squinted his eyes, doubtful of her intentions.

 

She blinked like an innocent puppy, so obvious. "What? No!" She said in a voice slightly too high-pitched. "Now go, stop making a scene."

 

Chanyeol rolled his eyes, getting mentally ready to go back to Ihwa or wherever Baekhyun would have had the grandiose idea of going. It had already happened twice. His mother kept pushing him to make deliveries recently, and every time, it would be for Baekhyun who would have found it funny to go in some distant place out of human reach, forcing Chanyeol into escalating mounts and mountains just to deliver fried chicken. He deserved better, he was convinced. One day, he would rebel and throw the chicken in a bin. It would be such a sweet revenge.

 

"Just how many free coupons have you given him? We're going to go bankrupt at this rate!" Chanyeol excoriated before his mother had the chance to slam the door at him.

 

"Shut up! Baekhyun is training hard for the World Championships, we should support him!" His mother threw a dirty dish towel at him before effectively slamming the door closed, leaving Chanyeol sulking.

 

It was with a deep sigh that he walked down the staircase of Big Cock Chicken, wondering just when his mother had started prioritizing other people’s well being over her very son's. Pulling the plastic bag up so it would be at his eye-level, he was mildly relieved when he noticed that the address for once wasn't at the other side of the city. He could take Django.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It was Mongryeong who made him realize that he was there. The corgi started pulling on the leash, trying to run towards the newcomer. Then, Baekhyun heard the sound of the bike's brakes, and he saw him. Chanyeol was on Django, plastic bag dangling on the handle. The guitarist got down slowly from the bicycle, booting the kickstand with his heel to keep Django upright before walking up to Baekhyun who was standing next to the pier by the river. It seemed like he had been only doing this for the past few days. Baekhyun had been ordering chicken every night. For someone who wasn't really fond of chicken, Chanyeol was surprised at how eager he seemed to be to get his nightly chicken.

 

The park was empty, it was past midnight at this point. He knew that Baekhyun had seen him coming, and yet, he wasn't taking the bag that Chanyeol was presenting to him. For a second, he considered throwing the chicken into the river before laughing maniacally and running away with Mongryeong and Django. That would have been a very sweet revenge. However, the chicken certainly didn't deserve such a devastating ending. Nor would he be quick enough to run away with his damned prosthesis.

 

"So, are you going to take it?" Chanyeol huffed in exaggerated annoyance, nudging to bag into Baekhyun's arm.

 

But the archer didn't really react, still looking into the water as if he was in a trance, maybe communicating with its depths or something. It actually scared Chanyeol, who felt the worry slowly creep up his chest. There was just something  _ off  _ about Baekhyun. He looked just like a shell that had been emptied of anything. As if in the river, some sort of evil spirit had sucked Baekhyun's soul when he had dared to look into the water. Chanyeol wanted to take his hand and pull him away, make sure he was okay.

 

There was something in the way Baekhyun's lips were forming a crescent moon, the curve pulled in the wrong way - something that filled Chanyeol with a deep sense of distress.

 

"I meant to tell you something."

 

Chanyeol's heart missed a beat. Baekhyun was slowly turning to face him, and Chanyeol wasn't sure if he wanted to be here. He knew it. He had known it since the start, that this moment would come. The reason why Baekhyun kept ordering chicken was to finally do it. Finally rejecting Chanyeol's confession in the most proper, cleanest way.

 

But Chanyeol didn't want to hear it. No matter how long, and how hard he had tried to prepare his heart for this, he wasn't ready for the rejection that was about to come. It would have be childish for him to put his fingers in his ears and start chanting incoherently just to make sure that the sound of Baekhyun's voice - of his imminent rejection - wouldn’t come to his ears. He felt like crying, his eyes were stinging and he just didn't want to be there.

 

Baekhyun was looking into his eyes, and there was just so, so much  _ sadness  _ in them.  _ Why are you rejecting me if it makes you sad _ , Chanyeol wanted to ask. He wanted to say no, say that he was against it. That he would rather take back his confession than suffer yet another heartbreak.

 

But Baekhyun didn't leave him the time to do so.

 

There was a hand taking his.

 

“It's not that I don't like you." He started. Chanyeol tried to pull away from Baekhyun's hold around his wrist, but he barely had the force to. They stayed like this, with Baekhyun’s hand holding his wrist as he kept on. "The reason why I rejected you. It isn't that." Baekhyun breathed, smiling. Smiling so sadly, shaking his head as his eyes looked for Chanyeol's. Chanyeol's who were trying so hard to escape from them, yet couldn't help but be pulled into them, their gazes meeting like a force was there to oblige it. He didn't want to see his own sadness mirrored in Baekhyun's irises. 

 

Baekhyun breathed shakily, his thumb going to caress the side of Chanyeol's wrist, and Chanyeol only wanted to plead him to stop. To stop all of this. To just stop it all. 

 

"It's just… I need time. For now." Baekhyun said with despair, seeking for Chanyeol's eyes to look into his, clutching a bit harder than needed onto the wrist. "For now, I need to focus on archery, I can't take the time to think of anything else. After all this, I’ll-”

 

“Do we even have time?”

 

Baekhyun blinked, startled. Chanyeol voice had came out grave, hoarse, a bit choked - on feelings, on other things - somewhat wistful. What had he meant, Baekhyun wasn’t too sure, but there was just something in the way Chanyeol had said it that rang deeper than the words normally would have. It left Baekhyun with a bittersweet feeling on his tongue, like the taste of a candy that you were given to try, but not to finish, and that you didn’t have enough time to figure out the flavour of. It made him a bit restless, so he waited for Chanyeol to explain. But apparently, it wasn’t meant to be explained.

 

“Nothing.” Chanyeol just sighed looking away, gaze falling on Mongryeong who was sitting next to them in stillness, looking at them earnestly as if he was getting the seriousness of their conversation, silent. It made Chanyeol smile.

 

He pulled his hand away from Baekhyun’s hold, burying them both in his coat pockets. He was about to walk away, lifting his foot from the ground, but setting it back. Baekhyun didn’t dislike him. He thought Chanyeol loving him was nonsense, but he didn’t dislike him.

 

“If we can’t date, can I at least kiss you?” The words rolled off his lips before he could realize what they meant. “I’m kinda really dying to do it.” 

 

Baekhyun kept poker-faced, no emotion showing on his features as he kept staring straight into Chanyeol’s eyes, lips tight. 

 

“I guess kissing is fine” He breathed out a little too quickly, although nonchalantly, shrugging yet body unmoving. 

 

Chanyeol hadn’t really expected Baekhyun to accept, he hadn’t even expected things to turn out like this. Never in his mind had he planned to ask such a thing to Baekhyun. So he stood still for a few seconds, watching Baekhyun watching him, tasting the silence, trying to think of what he was supposed to do. 

 

He was getting one chance, and one chance only. One opportunity to have a taste of what he had been craving for for a long while now. He was eager, yet there was a petrifying apprehension to it all. Baekhyun there, looking at him, still bearing no emotion at all, or at least none that Chanyeol could read in his expressionless eyes. It frustrated him, to be feeling as if he was the only one going through a myriad of emotions because of this situation. It frustrated him to feel as if to Baekhyun, this all was nothing. 

 

It was probably that frustration that pushed him to take a step forward, and to get one of his hands out of his pocket and place it on the curve of Baekhyun’s jawline. Tilting his head to the side, he closed his eyes, and there, he placed his lips on Baekhyun. Just above his lips. Just above, softly. As a butterfly would flutter above a flower, his lips like the magnificently colored wings flapping above the tantalizing petals. Just above. Not daring to touch them for they were still too precious to be tasted, and should be discovered with patience for the pleasure of the exploration not to be rushed and not savored as it should. 

 

So he pressed his lip above the lips, on the discreet mole just there, that had caught his attention on the first day they had talked and that he had dreamed of kissing since then. Sweet. Slow. Pure.

 

However, just as his lips met Baekhyun’s skin, the latter froze. Like electricity had rushed in his body, under Chanyeol’s touch and innocent ministration, he froze, breath audibly itching in his throat. As if Chanyeol had hurt him.

 

Chanyeol pulled away just as soon as he had leaned in, not even feeling the kiss enough for the ghost of Baekhyun’s skin to be left haunting his lips.

 

As their eyes met, Baekhyun's were just blinking, a bit bulging, seemingly stricken with fear, and something that Chanyeol identified akin to disgust. He wasn’t moving. Wasn’t saying anything. Only his lips turning into a straighter, whiter line, almost disappearing. 

 

Chanyeol buried his fists almost violently into his pockets and pulling his coat’s hood on his head, he bolted forward, almost knocking down Baekhyun on his way. Without a word, he straddled his bike, kicking violently on the kickstand, having to redo it at least thrice, the last time with a pathetic angry grunt before the damned thing kept in place and he cycled away, not even looking back at Baekhyun or at Mongryeong who was barking to get his attention. 

 

Baekhyun had rejected him. With the disgust, with the way his body had reacted to his kiss, as if rejecting it with each and every cell of his body, Baekhyun had rejected Chanyeol’s love.

 

Or so he thought. 

 

But behind, unbeknownst to him, he had left a completely and utterly lost Baekhyun who could barely breathe, the swirl of emotions in his mind just too much for his anxious soul which collapsed. 

 

Falling to his knees as if knocked out of all his energy, Baekhyun was slowly going back to his senses, and gradually, as the events that had just taken place replayed in his mind, he realized that he had yet again messed up. 

 

Once again, he hadn’t been able to act up on his feelings and accept them wholeheartedly, no matter how terrorizing they were to him. 

Once again, he had hurt Chanyeol because he just hadn’t been able to come in to terms with himself, and accept who he was as he was. 

  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  


They were walking silently amidst the crowd, bumping shoulders playfully from time to time. Chanyeol knew Sehun could see that there was something, they had known each other for so long, there was no way he couldn’t tell. It was probably the reason why the younger one wasn’t his usual chatty self and instead, with his playful shoulder bumps that would have annoyed anyone but Chanyeol, tried to make him understand that it was fine - that he was there. 

 

They walked up Homo hill, the slope they once upon a time used to walk up together at least thrice a week in their beginnings, when they had just started their little thing and were adamant to discover, quickly getting a bit addicted to the pleasure that came with sex, and overall, the feeling of being able to openly relish in the sexual fantasies you had been hiding for so long because they weren’t deemed as normal. 

 

Chanyeol hadn’t needed to tell Sehun about his sexuality. It was like the latter had known all along, and had just been waiting for Chanyeol to realize it too. They had met in grade school, on the baseball team. At first, they had just been acquaintances for some years. Then came the last year of grade school. Baseball was starting to take a toll on them, especially for Chanyeol who was seeing promising propositions coming his way, his talent was hard to conceal when he was on the field. It was also then that the rumors started. Chanyeol had paid them no heed. Sehun was a teammate, that was all. What he liked was his own personal life and not for him to meddle with. Until came the day that Sehun decided to take the plunge. Not trying to hide from the rumors, instead he embraced them and even repeated them himself. Yes, he was gay. And he was proud of being so. There was no shame to take from being so. However, everyone didn’t share this opinion. Grade school is a harsh environment, where the students are still too immature, and being mean is the trend - it was the way you had to do things if you wanted to survive. It was the law of the jungle. It was then that they became friends, that one day when Chanyeol stood up for Sehun. 

 

It was Sehun who taught Chanyeol, who once used to be all appearances, that it was more than okay to just be who you really are. As they grew closer, Chanyeol keeping the younger Sehun under his protective wing, he found something he couldn’t explain in this lanky teenager, something akin to admiration for the way Sehun always had his chin up, proud of who he really was. It inspired Chanyeol. It had him realize that all what he thought he had, the popularity, the girls going after him, the people envying, the scooting agents coming his way - all of this was futile when they weren’t after him, but after the image of himself he was trying to give. 

 

This realization had hit him at the hardest time of his life. When he had lost his leg, he had lost everything. His dream of a professional baseball career, his admirers, the envy, everything. His dreams had been crushed to dust, and all that was left was him, the real him, only a crippled version. It was Sehun, along with Seulbin, who helped him through it. It was Sehun who showed Chanyeol that this was a new chance for him to restart, for him to embrace his true self, his life, and make the most of it - meaning, what  _ he  _ wanted to make of his life. To stop hiding behind a made-up, artificial facade, only to have faceless people like you, people who would ultimately turn their backs at you when you would need a shoulder to lean on. 

 

It had been during a drunken night, trying to forget the pain of Seulbin’s passing, that Chanyeol had kissed Sehun for the first time. They were celebrating him recovering out of the hospital. It had happened like this, simply. One shot of soju too much and their lips had slipped.

 

Chanyeol needed support, he needed help to discover himself, to love the new him that he had tried for so long to muffle. Sehun was there. Sehun too, had things of his own that he needed help with. They came to an agreement quickly. It was only for the sheer pleasure of sex, or when one needed moral support. They were friends before anything, just friends who would give each other a hand when the need was felt. 

 

They walked into a sex hotel. The lady at the counter didn’t even lift an eyebrow at the sight of two men taking a room together. After all, the most famous gay clubs of Seoul were all in the district, this was common scenery. Chanyeol felt Sehun’s fingers thread into his as he took his hand and walked them toward their room.  

 

“You don’t really seem like you want sex tonight.” Sehun stated simply as he stretched his arms, sighing tiredly. 

 

Chanyeol was already on the bed, hugging the pillow. He simply hummed, shifting slightly closer to the wall so Sehun could have enough room  for his own tall body. The younger one soon crawled into the bed, immediately wrapping a loose arm around Chanyeol’s waist. The latter was fast to nuzzle himself against his friend, burying his hands under Sehun’s hoodie, something he would do when he wanted to find some security and comfort from his friend.

 

“Baekhyun rejected me.” Chanyeol’s voice cracked a bit as he spoke softly, index drawing a circle around Sehun’s navel. “He said it’s not that he doesn’t love me, but he wants to focus on archery right now. So I asked if I could at least kiss him and he said yes. So I did. I kissed him just above the lips. Right there.” He whispered as he slipped one hand out of the hoodie and place his finger right above the corner of Sehun’s lips. “He has a mole there, it’s the most addicting thing ever.” He sighed, letting his finger caress the skin where the mole would have been, had it been Baekhyun. Sehun was staring at him deeply, eyes dark and attentive. “So i kissed it. But when I did, his body went all rigid. As if I had molested him. It felt so terrible. As if I was being rejected all over again.” Chanyeol closed his eyes and let his head rest against Sehun’s chest, breathing deeply. He felt Sehun’s hand going for his head, fingers combing his locks gently. It made him feel a bit better, although a bit sleepy.

 

“So you don't want to chase after him anymore?” Sehun asked, his breathing fanning on Chanyeol’s crown. 

 

There was a small silence during which only their breaths could be heard. It had something appeasing. Sehun thought he would fall asleep too, before Chanyeol finally replied, startling him slightly. 

 

“I have done enough chasing, I can't do it no longer.” He said simply, with a tone of finality in his voice. 

 

Sehun bit down on his lower lip, not really liking this. “But you won't gain anything without working for it.” He said in a gentle scolding tone, his fingers going for the lobe of Chanyeol’s ear, gently massaging it before his thumb traced up the shell which had Chanyeol purr softly. “Hasn't baseball taught you that? The first time you tried to score a run, it didn't work. But you pushed through it. You kept going for it. Until you made it.”

 

“But that didn't hurt.” Chanyeol countered back. There was something in his voice that made it ring in the otherwise silent room, like there was some heavy echo to his words, for how deep their meaning actually was. “It hurts, to be rejected by the person you love. I've done it once, twice, I can't stand to be hurt once again with another rejection.”

 

“Then you want to give up?” Sehun asked again, testing Chanyeol.

 

The guitarist didn’t reply immediately, and that told Sehun everything. 

 

“It's not even worth it.” Chanyeol sounded desperate and tired. “I'm just going to end up hurting him too. Just as I am going to hurt my mom, my dad, Seulgi, Jongdae, you. I don't want to hurt more people than this already.”

 

Sehun hadn’t expected this reply. He knew Chanyeol was the type to think of others before himself. But this was just so far-fetched. Although he could see where Chanyeol was coming from, he just couldn’t understand how he had came to such a reasoning. 

 

“It is not for you to choose who you are going to hurt, Chanyeol.” Sehun set his hand on the boy’s cheek, forcing him to look up. 

 

Chanyeol blinked, apparently bothered by the light that filtered from the window, city streetlights. 

 

“We are the one choosing to get hurt by you, because we think you are worth the pain.” Sehun explained. 

 

He saw Chanyeol chewing on the inside of his cheek, trying to avoid his gaze, but Sehun made sure he couldn’t. 

 

“I would much rather be hurt by you in the end than erasing all the happy memories we have had together. And it is the same for your parents, for Seulgi, for Jongdae. I am sure it is the same for Baekhyun too.”

 

He could see the tears well up in Chanyeol’s large eyes. They didn’t fall, but they were there. There were so many things on Chanyeol’s heart that were weighing it down, he could see it. He wished he could take a bit of his friend’s burden off his shoulders, but he also knew that this was just what life was. A series of pain and shit you try to waddle out of. Some had a bit more shit to deal with than others, that was for sure, but it wasn’t because life was giving you shits that you couldn’t be happy. It was something he had learnt from Chanyeol, and maybe it was time when he needed to be remembered of his own words. 

 

“You know Yeol, at the end of the day, we’re all going to die at some point. It’s just how it is. We’re all going to hurt our loved ones because there will come a day when we will have to go. That’s just how it is. So this is also why you should make sure to bring your loved ones as much happiness as you can. So that, in the end, when you won’t be there anymore, at least they will have all the shared happy memories to think of, and although they will feel a bit of pain - that is just natural- they will more than anything feel happy they got the chance to share some time and memories with you.” 

 

Chanyeol bit down on his lower quivering lip, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply through his nose. Sehun made sure to hug him tight, very tight. Just so he would know that he would never let him go. That no matter how much Chanyeol would hurt him, he wouldn’t give up the friendship they had for anything in the world. 

 

“Hunnie.” He heard a croaky whisper against his chest. “I think I want to stop our agreement.”

 

Sehun looked down to meet Chanyeol’s eyes. They were still a bit humid, but there was a light to them. Like a sort of determination that had appeared, filling his orbs with life and willingness. 

 

“I love Baekhyun.” He hummed like one breathed - so naturally. “I can’t give those feelings up.”

 

Sehun smiled, a proud chuckle escaping from his lips as he squished Chanyeol against him.

 

“That’s the team leader Park I know. Go for the home run!”

 

“Since when do you give orders to your captain!” Chanyeol playfully hit him on the chest, an honest laugh erupting from his chest. It had Sehun laugh to.

 

“May I be honest? I’m so going to miss your legs.” He pouted, still laughing though.

 

“You kinky bastard!” Chanyeol punched him in the gut, Sehun yelping and rolling off the bed, crashing on the ground in a dull sound with a quite unsexy shriek that had Chanyeol wheeze like a madman before he started coughing, fighting to catch back his breath.

  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  


There was something to the sound of arrows slashing through the air, like the sound of a golden eagle soaring upon its prey, swift yet striking. It intoxicated Baekhyun to listen to it. The abrupt snap would always make his blood run in his veins, exciting his heart and making him slightly breathless with apprehension as he would watch the arrow dig itself into the target. It made him feel powerful. And the feeling of power was something addictive. 

 

Yet, no matter how many arrows he was trying to shoot, Baekhyun’s soul was numb to the usual thrill. His movements felt mechanical. Get into position, straighten your arm, set your arrow and draw on the string, then release. Over, and over, and over again. Two hundred and eighty one. He had counted each one of them. He had been there for the whole day, shooting, shooting, shooting restlessly. To the point that he could feel the burn in his wrist, and his fingers were so numb he couldn’t feel his string against their tips. His arm was trembling madly, but there was no stopping it. And there was no stopping him. Frustration was all he could feel, the ugly emotion like a little ball of lava that was stuck somewhere between his stomach and chest, slowly, gnawing at his flesh, progressively eating him away, getting to his sanity. 

 

It wasn’t making him happy. Archery - his passion, the thing he had been living for since he could remember, his whole life - wasn’t making him happy anymore. No matter how many arrows he would shoot, it felt like they would just hit, hit, hit, hit against his hatred, making it more and more profound by each shot, making him despise this all more and more and more. 

Making him despise all that he was. 

 

At some point, his hand just stopped moving. On its own, despite Baekhyun’s will, it just wouldn’t move anymore. It was stuck mid air. There was someone holding it.  

 

“Stop mistreating your bow.” Coach Choi looked angry. Letting go of Baekhyun’s hand, he crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing him with authority. Baekhyun dropped his bow, holding in a sigh that made his chest feel so, so tight. “An archer should always treat their bow with love. It is a prolongation of yourself, you should respect it as such.”

 

“But what if I don’t love myself?” 

 

It had barely been uttered, like a grunt between his teeth that no one but him heard. Coach Choi only had the time to lift an eyebrow, Baekhyun had already marched to the benches where his bags were. Messily, he grabbed them, not even taking the time to put his bow back in its case. He was about to make it for the door when a loud voice stopped him in his tracks.

 

“You can’t run away from yourself, Byun Baekhyun.”

 

It made his shoulders tense. Exhaling deeply, he lowered his head and slid the door open, clashing with the cold winter night air. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Throwing his bags on the grass, Baekhyun quickly fumbled with his bow, setting it back into his case before he put his coat on. It was freezing outside and his fingers were stiff and trembling, bitten by the cold. As he did so, something fluttered out of his pocket. When he saw what it was, his heart almost skipped out of his chest. He made a run for it, going after the little pieces of paper that were being swept away by the wind. He could barely move his fingers but by some miracle, he managed to catch them all back before they disappeared with the breeze. 

 

“That was a close call.” He sighed in relief as he smoothed them with his thumb. 

 

The coupons. They were the coupons Chanyeol’s mother had given him. 

 

It was incredible how for a moment, the potentiality of losing them had felt like someone had just announced him that he would never see Chanyeol ever again. He hadn’t seen Chanyeol for a whole week now. It was only just a few days before Christmas, winter vacation had begun. That was probably why, he tried to tell himself. But he knew he was just lying to himself. Last time hadn’t gone well. When they had last met, it hadn’t gone well at all. He had planned to tell Chanyeol clearly - that he couldn’t reciprocate his feelings. That he just didn’t feel this way - that he wasn’t gay. Yet, the sole perspective of doing this, of outrightly rejecting Chanyeol had frightened him. He had backpedalled, and before he could realize what was happening, there had been Chanyeol’s lips just next to his lips. 

 

And instead of feeling disgusted, all his mind had been able to process was the disappointment of not having Chanyeol’s lips on  _ his _ . 

 

Biting down on his lip, he stared at the numbers inked on the paper. The cold didn’t seem to bother his fingers when they started dialing the number on his smartphone. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It was the sound of a motorbike that pulled him out of his slumber. He had fallen asleep under the beech tree, hugging his bow case to his chest. When his eyes snapped open, he saw winter boots. Looking up, his gaze followed slender legs, before falling upon a puffy white coat, long dark hair, a pout.

 

“Why are you waiting in the cold like this?” Seulgi sounded preoccupied. She cutely waddled up to him, holding in one hand a plastic bag with his order inside. There was steam coming out of her lips at each breath she let out. She looked quite cold. Baekhyun realized he was cold too, but his body was too frozen for him to even feel it. 

 

Baekhyun didn’t reply immediately. Rubbing his hands against his legs, he peered behind Seulgi, staring at the red delivery motorbike. He wasn’t there.

 

“Chanyeol is off service today.” Seulgi explained as if she could read his mind. She gave him the plastic bag, which he took, having forgotten that he had even ordered something. “Why don’t you call him on his phone?” She chewed on her lower lip, foot stepping on a branch that had fallen on the dried grass, crushing it repetitively under her heel. 

 

It sounded so simple to do it. It probably was. But to Baekhyun, it seemed like an impassable mountain.

 

“I think he needs to hear your voice tonight.” Seulgi said in a somewhat estranged voice. Baekhyun looked up, brows furrowed, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking away, at a chipmunk that seemed to be particularly late, running away with a sort of nut in his little hands. Maybe he was lost? It was rare to see chipmunks here, and usually, by this time of the year they were already hibernating. 

 

When the little fluffy animal disappeared up a tree, she turned her head back at him, her gaze falling upon him gently. 

 

“He’s waiting for you to call him, Baekhyun.” She gave him a smile. It was hesitant at first, tasting of unsaid words. She took some steps back, as if weighing her decision - wondering if she should just say what was on her mind, or leave it at that. When she gave Baekhyun a full, earnest yet sad smile, he understood that there was something important he hadn’t said. And it left him with a feeling of crippling anxiety, his heart hammering against his ribs as he watched her start her motorbike, the engine roaring to life. And then she was gone. But the feeling of restlessness stuck. 

 

It stuck to the point that he stared at his phone for a long while, guilt deeply anchored in his chest. 

 

Maybe he should make things clear once and for all. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**To : Chanyeol**

_ I'm waiting for you at Wau Park, under the beech tree. I won't leave until you come. We need to talk.  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Baekhyun heard his steps over the sound of his arrow slashing the wind. It had his heart speed up slightly, a squeezing feeling taking over his chest. He didn't have to see him to know it was him. He had learnt the rhythm of Chanyeol's footsteps by heart. They were like the lullaby he had never been lulled with by his mother. Oddly, it had this soothing effect on his mind, to hear those steps, it appeased him. 

 

He took another arrow, placed it on his bow, drew the string. Released. The arrow dug itself into the trunk of the beech tree. 

 

Neither of them spoke. 

 

Baekhyun could finally feel himself easing down. The lava in his guts, the frustration, it was slowly going away. His movements became more gracile as he was finally able to hold his back straight, feeling the oxygen circulate in his lungs. It was freeing. Chanyeol’s presence, the way he had this soothing effect on Baekhyun, making him feel at ease, secure and calm, it was incredible. 

 

But there was a faint noise that progressively filled their silence, taking over the sound of Baekhyun's arrows again. It was very discreet, comparable to the small squeak of a baby animal calling for its mother. It was filled with the same sorrow, the same pain. And before he knew it, it had became so loud Baekhyun couldn't focus on the sound of his arrows anymore. He missed his target, the arrow dodging the tree and going to plant itself in another some good ten meters further away. 

 

Frowning, he turned on his heels. Chanyeol was there, and when Baekhyun saw him, something just cracked in his heart. 

 

Chanyeol was there, sitting on the grass. With his knees against his chest, he was hugging them, his face buried in his arms, while all Baekhyun could see was the way his back trembled, as if he was seized with an uncontrollable hiccup. The little squeaking sounds were coming from his body too. 

Baekhyun was rendered speechless. Standing there, unmoving, all he could do was stare, contemplating how small and vulnerable Chanyeol looked like this. Like a lost child, crying for his mother to find him. 

 

“We should go home.” Baekhyun blurted. 

 

It sounded so strange - his own voice sounded strange to him, like it wasn't his. He would have liked to be able to say some soothing words that would have helped Chanyeol calm down. Maybe ask him what was wrong, tell him that he was there, that everything would be fine. But he just couldn't. He didn't know how to do this. Socializing wasn't something he was good at. Comforting someone was something he really didn't know. Hurting the person even more was just so frightening. 

 

He could only think of Seulgi’s words. Chanyeol would probably want to see him. Baekhyun wondered if it was seeing him that had Chanyeol cry like this. 

 

“Chanyeol.” He breathed, taking a step closer. 

 

His hands were itching to reach for the messy hair, to comb them through the locks. To feel that Chanyeol was there. To make Chanyeol feel that he was there. But he didn't. At least not at first, but the fact that Chanyeol only curled more onto himself as Baekhyun walked up to him, his sobs getting more numerous, more heartfelt, and simply just more heartbreaking for Baekhyun, it had the latter change his mind. 

 

On impulse, his fingers went for Chanyeol's hair. Gently, they threaded through the locks, combing them back, massaging the crying boy’s scalp in a caring way. Baekhyun kneeled in front of Chanyeol, his fingers playing tenderly with the curls, until they decided on their own to reach for Chanyeol's face. Gently, the tip of his fingers drew the curve of Chanyeol cheekbone, very gently, like one would caress a dandelion with the intent of not faltering. The skin was soft, but wet. Tear stained. Chanyeol was still crying, his sobs now loud, expressive cries that painted such a profound and honest sorrow, it scared Baekhyun, making him breathless with worry. 

 

Chanyeol was wailing, wailing, wailing, his voice sometimes breaking pitifully, and the more he was doing so, the more he seemed to be curling onto himself, as if he was trying to fight something off, like demons that were lashed out to catch him and from which he seemed to be trying to run away desperately. He had curled onto himself so much that Baekhyun couldn't even touch his face anymore, for it was hidden in Chanyeol’s arms, and his hands were still, aching to touch Chanyeol, pull him into a protective and comforting embrace and never let him go. But Baekhyun's hands fell on his lap as he breathed with ache. 

 

“Chanyeol…” 

 

The sobs slowly died down, just like how the strength of an echo would always progressively falter. It took some time, but Chanyeol looked up at the sound of his name, red and humid eyes meeting with Baekhyun's while tears were still streaming down his cheeks, drawing glimmering messy lines that Baekhyun found himself wanting to kiss away. 

 

“Let's go home.” Baekhyun extended his hand to Chanyeol, and the latter took it after examining it for a few long seconds, using it to get up. 

 

He was avoiding the archer's eyes, swiftly brushing his tears away with his hand, sniffing. Baekhyun stared at the ground as he lead them to Django who had been left lying on the grass. 

 

Chanyeol's hand was so cold, he noticed, as if he had been out for hours. He squeezed it a bit, hoping this would maybe warm Chanyeol up. 

 

“I have chicken if you want!” He suddenly interjected, almost shoving the bag of cold chicken to Chanyeol's face. 

 

But the latter barely glanced at it, almost as if he wasn't seeing it. Pressing his lips further into a white line, Chanyeol faintly shook his head no, not making the slightest sound. 

 

Baekhyun barely contained his pout, lowering the plastic bag which rustled. Chanyeol suddenly pulled his hand away from Baekhyun's, leaving it feeling oddly empty as he walked up to Django and proceeded to pick it up. 

 

As he did so, Baekhyun saw. He saw how Chanyeol clenched and unclenched his hand, the hand that he had just held. He saw how slowly Chanyeol was walking, shoulders slumped forward, sometimes muffling a cough in his sleeve. And he definitely saw how he brushed that same hand against his pants before grasping Django. 

 

To see all of that, it hurt. 

 

And it was weird. It was so weird, Baekhyun thought as he stared at Chanyeol's furthering back. 

 

Chanyeol was there, but for some reason, he felt so, so far away. 

 

And it had Baekhyun feeling terrorized. With a gaping hole in his chest as if he would feel the winter breeze blow through it, or had him left with such a deep sentiment of hollowness. He inhaled slowly, exhaled deeply, trying to tame the anxiety he could feel building up. 

 

Chanyeol was looking at him, holding his bicycle. “Hop on.” he said in a small voice, patting Django’s long triangular shaped seat. Baekhyun’s eyes widened.

 

“We’re going to die.”

 

It had Chanyeol crack a smile, although it was quickly concealed. “Nah, no worries about that. Just sit.”

 

Baekhyun took a deep inhale before he walked to the bicycle. Cautiously, he sat himself with his butt pressed to the farthest possible edge, small on his back pressed against the tiny backrest. It wasn’t exactly comfortable but he said nothing, simply holding his breath as Chanyeol sat in front of him, between his legs. He let out a shaky breath, clammy hands pressed on his thighs, wondering just what he was supposed to do. His heart was beating very strongly in his chest, but in a restrained way that felt as if it was constricted within a cage. The seat was strangely long enough for both of them to fit on it, although Chanyeol was literally pressed against him. It looked like there was a huge bright red marshmallow in front of him because of how oversized and puffy Chanyeol’s coat was - it had Baekhyun craving to just bury his face in it and hug it very, very tight.

 

It was like Chanyeol could read his mind when out of nowhere, he took Baekhyun’s hands and pulled them so he would have his arms wrapped around himself. “Hold on tightly.” He instructed. 

 

Baekhyun could only nod, cheek pressed against the coat, tightening his embrace around Chanyeol’s waist. He had his sports bag on his back and his bow case hung on his shoulder, and as Chanyeol set his prosthetic leg to fit on the adjusted pedal, all Baekhyun could do was pray that everything would go fine. 

 

“To infinity and beyond.” Chanyeol whispered in a sort of nostalgic, half-happy and half-gloomy voice as he started pedaling. Baekhyun immediately stiffened, closing his eyes in fright. 

 

But quickly, he realized that it was all good. Chanyeol was pedaling at a safe speed, and strangely, they worked well like this, both on Django. There was just enough space for them on the seat, and Baekhyun had found a way to stabilize his feet on the side so they wouldn’t dangerously dangle. 

 

As they drove through the park, Baekhyun’s anxiety tamed down. It was night, and the breeze, although a bit cold, felt refreshing in the way it brushed his hair. He soon found a comfortable position, leaning his head against Chanyeol's back, his hold around the guitarist’s waist not gentler, more trusting. 

 

He felt nice enough to close his eyes and just try to find some enjoyment in the moment. 

 

Chanyeol was there. Chanyeol was there and it was something that filled Baekhyun with a sort of reassurance and contentment. However, he just couldn’t let go of the haunting feeling in his chest, like a sort of lingering sorrow, and a lot, lot of guilt. He couldn’t push away the images of Chanyeol crying, the sound of his sobs that had filled Baekhyun’s ears in a sort of daunting way. It had felt like a knife had been pushed into his flesh, and was now being rubbed in even more, as if to tell him that he had no right to forget the pain that this vision imposed on him. 

 

It hurt, to see Chanyeol sad. Because Chanyeol was like the sunshine, it just couldn’t be shadowed over. Chanyeol couldn’t be sad, because Chanyeol deserved nothing but happiness. And to see that Chanyeol was sad revolted Baekhyun. Chanyeol didn’t deserve any pain in the world. Chanyeol was too good to be hurt. Chanyeol was all Baekhyun had ever wished to be. Bright, sunny and loved by everyone. He had a loving mother. A supportive family. 

 

The Chanyeol in Baekhyun’s mind had no problems, and was always happy and merry, smiling as if everyday was a gift. That was how Baekhyun had visualized Chanyeol all along. Like someone who never let anything be a worry to him - like a role model, an ideal that Baekhyun should strive to be alike. And now it came like a bullet hitting straight in his idealizations, to see that Chanyeol could be hurt too, that Chanyeol had problems of his own, and that he wasn’t as strong as Baekhyun thought he was. That he had tears to spill, and things to hurt over. That he was human. Not God, contrary to what Baekhyun had envisioned him as.

 

It was like this, as they drove on a wonky bike, most probably risking their lives, that Baekhyun realized just how much Chanyeol meant to him. And those thoughts were spilled out of his lips as panic suddenly rose in his chest and he burst.

 

“Wait!”

 

Chanyeol suddenly braked, Django stopping just before a descending slope with a disagreeable shriek of the tires.

 

Baekhyun’s fingers were so strongly curled around Chanyeol’s coat that his knuckles were white, hands trembling. He was almost choking Chanyeol from how tightly he was holding onto him. 

 

“Are you sure your brakes are functioning right? I don’t really want to die now.” Baekhyun whispered with worry in his voice. 

 

He knew this slope. He knew it, and it still made him shudder to think about the pain he had felt on this slope, the first time he had met Chanyeol. Back when Djago’s brakes hadn’t functionned, and Chanyeol had ended up plowing into Baekhyun. It was funny to think that it had all begun there, and that now, after weeks of mulling over it, and slowly, slowly getting to know each other, here they were, Baekhyun tightly embracing Chanyeol as they rode on his wonky bike named Django. 

 

It felt like they had come a long way.

 

The wind blew, Chanyeol glanced at Baekhyun over his shoulder, still sullen.

 

“Yup yup.” He said nonchalantly, shrugging. 

 

Baekhyun’s heart clenched, and he held his breath in. His fingers tugged a bit more at the coat, and he buried his face in the puffy coat. If he was to die now, at least he wanted to accomplish one of his dreams. He had been craving to mold himself into this huge coat, against Chanyeol, for days now. He inhaled deeply. Chanyeol still smelled of himself, fresh, like nature, and baby shampoo. Baekhyun sighed, and he felt something stirring in his  chest, like a sunflower trying to bloom right at its center, but it was so big, so beautiful, he just had to describe it, let the world now how proud he was of this sunflower in him.

 

_ “I love you a bit too much for us to die now.” _

 

It had been barely breathed out, like a sort of secret that was said to oneself, almost a bit like the speaker was realizing himself what had just rolled off his lips. The sunflower had bloomed. Baekhyun was panting, eyes wide, realizing just what he had said.

 

Django’s tires emitted another bloodcurdling, strident grating noise, and the bicycle came to a halt right in the middle of the slope. 

 

Baekhyun was out of breath, Chanyeol had turned over to look at him with stupefaction painted on his face. His lips were moving, his lower one shaking a bit, as if he was trying to form words, but they just wouldn’t come out.

 

“W-what did you just say?” He asked in a breath, not blinking even once. 

 

There were so many things, Baekhyun saw, in his eyes. Fright. Fright was the biggest emotions of all the ones melted into Chanyeol’s irises. And there were others. Fright but also bewilderment, hesitation, incomprehension, a tinge of hope, but a lot, lot of fright above it all. 

 

Baekhyun was looking into those eyes, big, deep and dark, feeling himself being sucked in. They were beautiful, so beautiful. He had been dreaming of them for days now. Those eyes had been haunting his nights, looking at him in his sleep, bewitching his sanity. Yet, he preferred those eyes when they were filled with passion, happiness, joy, lust. 

 

Those lips which were slightly parted, pink and as soft looking as ever, he liked them the most when they were smiling, or when they were moving to the rhythm of the song lyrics that were coming out of them, or even more when they were slowly, gently whispering his name. 

 

Baekhyun. Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun Baekhyun  _ Baekhyun _ . 

 

He touched those lips. Without thinking, not even really aware of his own actions, his hand reached for those lips, his index very cautiously setting itself on the lower one, the tip grazing at the very soft and pinking flesh. It was slightly warm, Chanyeol’s warm breath was fanning over his finger. It sent shivers coursing down Baekhyun’s spine, making him tremble. 

 

The archer breathed in deeply, looking at his own finger travelling along the pink ribbon-like lip. Slowly, slowly, drawing its contour, feeling its surface against his epidermis, tasting how mushy it was under his touch. It would probably feel so pliant, if he ever pressed his own lips against them. He wondered. 

 

Curiosity was eating him. Desire, too. 

 

Chanyeol was breathing deeply too, his eyes set on Baekhyun’s, so, so dark, half lidded. The fright was gone from them. It seemed to have been replaced by things Baekhyun liked more. Apprehension, excitement, a tiny tinge of worry, a lot of lust. 

 

Baekhyun let out a shaky exhale when something warm and humid closed itself around his index. The breeze blew, it was cold, but Baekhyun felt so hot. He felt the tip of Chanyeol’s tongue going to tease his finger before he moved his head, and slowly, progressively started sucking on it, head dipping forward, making Baekhyun let out a panting moan. He pulled his finger out. It was wet, glimmering slightly from the saliva. He went back to drawing the shape of Chanyeol’s lips, spreading the saliva on it. They looked glazed like this, just like sweet asking to be eaten. 

 

His eyelids fluttered close, barely open as he took a deep breath, and felt something warm fan on his lips as he leaned in. Slowly, with his lips, he caressed Chanyeol’s. He tilted his head, with his lower lip stroking Chanyeol’s upper one. It was very soft, very subtle. He could barely feel Chanyeol’s lips against his, but it was a treat, and sweets needed to be savored for their taste to be appreciated. He could feel the warmth of Chanyeol’s longing sigh against his lips, it had him tremble. He let his eyes flutter open, and they  met with Chanyeol's wanton ones.

 

_ “Baekhyun.” _

 

There was something wet, like a stroke, very delicate, that went from his lower lip, and then upper one, Chanyeol’s tongue giving a kitten lick to his lips that had Baekhyun sigh profoundly. A hand came to cup his jaw, and he felt his body melt.

 

He was safe. Chanyeol was there. Chanyeol was there. 

 

Both his hands went to Chanyeol’s face, fingers quickly to lose themselves in the long dark locks, pulling at them as he crashed their lips together. They danced. It was raw, passionate, heartfelt. Baekhyun kissed Chanyeol and Chanyeol kissed Baekhyun, their lips moving, molding together, searching for the other, to taste, to feel between the sighs and for their souls to be rejuvenated through their exchange.

 

“I might love you a bit more than I can admit so I wish you wouldn't die.” He susurrated against his lips, and he heard Chanyeol let out a broken moan before lips were pressed tightly against his, and Chanyeol’s nose was butting against his, teeth colliding slightly with the abruptness of the next kiss. 

 

Baekhyun felt as if he was sent ablaze. His heart seemed to be pounding in his whole body, and he pulled, held tightly onto Chanyeol’s locks, making the latter hiss a bit, but he just kissed him better, deeper. Biting down on Baekhyun’s lips, Chanyeol chuckled when he heard the latter yelp, and the he broke the kiss.

 

Baekhyun was left breathless, panting, staring at Chanyeol with pupils blown, cheeks flushed. Chanyeol was just the same, lips red, slightly swollen. 

 

They stared at each other, wordlessly, both trying to gain their breath back. Baekhyun licked his lips, feeling slightly intimidated by the force of Chanyeol’s gaze upon him. 

 

“What?” He asked a bit coy, pulling his scarf up to half his face. 

 

Chanyeol was licking his lips, probably hoping they wouldn’t get chapped from the kiss. He bit down on the lower one, trying to suppress a smirk.

 

“I can't espresso my feelings.” He misspoke, giggling shyly. 

 

Baekhyun was trying not to laugh, feeling as embarrassed. He just lightly punched Chanyeol’s side repetitively, feeling his cheeks burn slightly.

 

“Go, go, go!” He scolded Chanyeol who burst out of laugher, nodding his head before he turned around and grabbed the handles, pushing on the pedals and continuing down the slope they had first met on. 

 

Baekhyun made sure not to hurt Chanyeol as he held onto him, leaning his head against the vast back and closing his eyes, enjoying how great it felt to be able to breathe freely. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


There is a limit to how joyous one can feel, when people seem to be set on popping their bubble of happiness. Baekhyun’s smile was still reaching his eyes, although he was shyly trying to conceal it as he entered his house. Mongryeong immediately trudged up to him, all bouncy and happy, coming to paw playfully at Baekhyun’s toes. He picked up the dog, kicking his shoes to the side as he entered the lounge, rubbing his nose against the corgi’s ear while Mongryeong was instead trying to lick it. 

 

He felt as if he was walking on clouds. His whole body felt so light, and his heart was like a flower that had just bloomed, feeling radiant as it was soaking in a sunbath. He could still feel the tingles on his lips, were Chanyeol had kissed him, and if he closed his eyes, he could still visualize the scene, bring back all the sensations of Chanyeol’s lips against his, the little noise he had made, how he had called his name. He liked it a lot, the way Chanyeol would call his name. Like he was reciting a poem - knew it by heart, and heartfelt emotions poured into it, declaimed with passion. It made Baekhyun feel all warm inside. He could feel his cheeks hurting from how much he was smiling.

 

“I hope it is archery that is making you so happy.”

 

Baekhyun stopped in his tracks, feeling like a rock had just fallen on his heart, and he could hear it as it got crushed. When you soar high, you also fall harder. 

His mother was looking at him sternly, and all he could sense now was guilt filling his guts, with needles piercing up his lungs. He bit down on his lower lip, remembering how poorly he had done on his training today. 

 

“I’m doing my best.” He simply breathed, walking past the counter where his mother was sitting, and up the stairs to his room where he slammed the door with his foot. 

 

He could still feel Chanyeol’s lips on his, but now it was like a burn. Shame, guilt and sorrow all molded into on ugly emotion that had him crawl in his bed and bury himself under his covers as he tried to keep his breathing steady. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When Chanyeol pushed the door of his studio open, he was greeted by cold and darkness. Kicking his shoes off by the entryway, he blindly rummage for the light switch. But he couldn’t feel. His fingers traveled against the bare wall, and yet, it was as if nothing. His fingers were numb against it - devoid of any sensation. 

 

After some long seconds of trying to find the switch by memory, he simply gave up. His lips were still tingling from the heated exchange. He could barely believe what had happened. He tried to bring his fingers to his lips, to touch, graze the place where Baekhyun’s lips had been moment’s ago, retrace the path they had taken against his, remind himself of all the sensations that had submerged him. But they were numb. His finger was numb, and although he could feel them against his lips, he couldn’t feel his lips against his digits. 

 

Something collided against his good leg as he walked, making him hiss in pain. And then he saw. As the moonlight bathed the top of the table, he saw the big white envelope on it, and the black sheet of paper, with gray and white blotches on it.

 

His knees felt weak, so he tried calmly to sit himself on the ground. His hand went for the file, trying to pick it up, but it just slipped from his numb fingers, falling on the floor with a dull sound. Gray and white blotches like the ornaments on a Christmas tree looking at him, as if mocking him. 

 

Chanyeol felt something warm sliding down his cheeks, his eyes stinging, and he could feel his nostrils flare, his jaw clenched tight but his lips trembling as he tried so hard not to let out any other sob. 

 

He tried to pick up the file again, and the envelope. He tried, tried, tried and tried again. Repetitively. Stubbornly. But every time he managed to grab it, it would slip from his fingers and flutter back to the floor, the blotches facing him, as if reminding him that no, they wouldn’t leave. They were there and they would stay there.

 

In a fit of rage and desperation, barely able to breathe through his tears, he slapped the table with his hand. Hard. Again. Again. Again.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. He couldn’t feel anything.  It should have hurt, but he could feel nothing. 

 

_ “I might love you a bit more than I can admit so I wish you wouldn't die.” _ Baekhyun had moaned in a moment of bliss and secrecy against his lips, when they had kissed. 

 

Chanyeol slapped the table again, this time harder, the back of his knuckles hitting the edge. But nothing. 

 

His grunts had made place for heart-wrecking sobs. Grabbing the envelope and the black sheet of paper messily, crumbling them, he tossed them to the other side of the room, but the papers only floated gently, falling back on the table, as if set on playing with him. 

 

Chanyeol ignored it, kicking the table away with his good foot, the piece of furniture going to collide against the fridge. There, the envelope and the file slid to the ground, the blotches facing the floor, hidden away. But Chanyeol didn’t see it. The boy had his arms wrapped around his knees, face buried into them as he was biting at his sleeve, trying to calm his weeping.

 

“I don’t want to die either.” His voice broke between two sobs. “I don’t want to die…”

  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  


With exams gone by, winter vacation had started for all the students. Vacation for everyone, but Baekhyun, who still spent his days in the archery room. Him and Chanyeol wouldn't talk much, seeing how busy the archer was. Of course, Chanyeol made it a point to come every day to see him, but he couldn't help this weird feeling in his chest. 

 

They had kissed, the last time they had drove home together. They had kissed, but now they barely talked. 

 

To Chanyeol, it felt like Baekhyun was avoiding him. And it hurt. It hurt quite a bit. But he didn't take it personally. Baekhyun didn't seem to be avoiding him because he was mad, or something. Everytime Chanyeol would be close to him, Baekhyun would seem flustered. So Chanyeol had guessed he was only feeling shy since they had shared a kiss. 

 

Sometimes, doubt would get the best of him and he would wonder if Baekhyun was regretting it. But each time those dark thoughts came to settle themselves in his mind, Baekhyun would be there, always with discrete and subtle gestures, he would reassure Chanyeol. Be it with soft smiles, or a swift but heartfelt caress as he walked past him, or sometimes just a text, not saying much, but showing that he was thinking of him. 

 

Baekhyun was just busy, and he just needed a bit of time, Chanyeol kept telling himself. 

 

He missed driving back home with Baekhyun, he thought. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He had hesitated a long while. He could still feel the embarrassment he had felt at the store. He had been there to look for a Christmas present for his mother, but on the way out of the shop, he had noticed those cute mittens. They were penguin shaped, with little flippers and a small beak sewn onto them in relief, and there was a woolen thread that linked them. 

 

Chanyeol stood there, staring at them. He hadn't missed how Baekhyun would never wear gloves, his hands always turning red from the cold. He had explained that it was to train his hands to put up with any kind of conditions, but Chanyeol still thought that Baekhyun should take care of his hands. 

 

Chanyeol loved Baekhyun's hands a lot. 

 

It was Jongdae who, after thoroughly mocking him, convinced him to buy those mittens as a Christmas present to Baekhyun. And Chanyeol did so, explaining that he had felt pressured. Of course, that was just an excuse. 

 

A valuable excuse to walk Baekhyun home on Christmas Eve. So that he could gift him the mittens. 

 

Baekhyun had said yes, with a light blush on his cheeks, when Chanyeol had told him he needed to walk him home that night. It had make Chanyeol's heart squeeze in delight, and for the whole day, he sat in the benches, feeling all giddy. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They were walking side by side following the lighted streets, their steps slow as they went forward in silence. To Chanyeol, it felt a bit awkward, but he was happy, he was happy to be able to see Baekhyun's face, to be blessed with his presence. 

 

Baekhyun looked tired. His eyes were hooded and his cheeks slightly swollen. Chanyeol had seen him napping a bit when they were sitting on the bench, eating. Baekhyun had fallen into light slumber, with his chopsticks still between his lips, and just a few seconds later he had woken up and continued eating, as if nothing had happened. 

They were walking, shoulders brushing from time to time. Chanyeol was looking for the perfect moment to gift Baekhyun with his present, but there seemed to be none. It would be too awkward if he gave him the mittens suddenly, without a decent mood to accompany the gesture. 

 

Suddenly, Baekhyun stopped walking, putting his arm in front of Chanyeol. He was looking down, avoiding Chanyeol's gaze. He looked shy. Chanyeol tried not to coo. 

 

They were walking up the slope that lead to Baekhyun's house. The neighborhood was silent, no one on the street. 

 

“Is everything alright?” He asked, bending his knees slightly in an attempt to make an eye contact with Baekhyun. 

 

The archer nodded, but then shook his head no. 

 

“I have candies in my pocket, I really wanted to share them with you tonight but my hands are so frozen I can't get them and ugh…” He sighed, sounding frustrated and embarrassed. “Could you get them for me?“

 

As he asked this, he spread his arms, as if giving Chanyeol the permission access to his body. The guitarist chuckled but nodded. Gently, he buried his hands in Baekhyun's pockets, and quickly, he found the candies. They were grape flavored. 

 

“They're for you.” Baekhyun whispered under his scarf, face half hidden by it. 

 

As he said this, he didn't move, still facing Chanyeol, as if waiting for something, hesitating. Then, all of a sudden, he grabbed one of the candies from Chanyeol's hand and unwrapped it before throwing it into his mouth. 

 

Chanyeol watched him with amusement. Baekhyun was acting strange tonight. 

 

However, the strangest thing happened when out of nowhere, frozen and stiff hands cupped Chanyeol’s cheeks clumsily, and there were lips pressed against his. 

 

At first, they were a bit rough, but quickly, they started moving slowly against his, caressing them, so warm, lighting up something inside of him, making his body go limp as he let his arms take a hold of the waist and bring their bodies closer. Then, a tongue shyly caressed the slit between his lips, asking for permission to enter, and when Chanyeol parted his lips, it tasted of grape, sugar and  _ Baekhyun _ . 

 

Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun. 

 

The kiss stopped as quickly as it had started, but the taste of grape stuck to Chanyeol's tongue. There was a candy in his mouth, and a blushing Baekhyun facing him. 

 

“I suck at choosing gifts.” He shrugged. 

 

He was about to turn around and continue walking up the slope, but Chanyeol caught his hands. 

 

He caught his hands, and Baekhyun almost gasped when he saw what Chanyeol was doing. Diligently, he was putting penguin mittens on his hands, giving each a kiss on the protruding beaks, before he pressed a quick peck on Baekhyun's nose. 

 

The archer stared at his hands, and at the penguins that were staring back at him. 

 

“They are adorable, Chanyeol…”

 

The guitarist smiled shyly, shrugging as if it was nothing. Baekhyun stared at the string between the mittens. 

 

And there, faster than one could breathe, he threw his hands in the air, and managed to get the string around Chanyeol. In a swift tug, he propelled Chanyeol forward, making the boy stumble in his embrace. He caught him, grinning up at him devilishly, and hugged him tighter than ever. 

 

“This is the perfect weapon to keep you by my side.” Baekhyun snickered, eyes beaming with happiness. 

 

And Chanyeol was swept off his feet. So easily, just with one smile from Baekhyun, he found himself prisoner. 

 

But this was the sweetest prison he could wish for, he thought as he leaned down and captured Baekhyun's lips with his. 

  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  


As snow would sometimes flutter from the clouds, gently piling up on the ground and trying to resist the night, days went, a new year arrived, but it seemed to mark no big change. Things were always the same. 

 

Chanyeol would work as much as he could in his mother’s restaurant, but now that his father was there - apparently he had decided to stay for a prolonged amount of time - he had more free time. Free time he would spend in the practice room, lulled by the sounds of Baekhyun’s arrows as he would busy himself plucking on his guitar strings. He would always come with a big Thermos of food to share. While waiting for Baekhyun to take a break, he would either play something, or work on his compositions. 

 

Sometimes he would read too, the book that Baekhyun had offered him. It was nice. Chanyeol wasn’t used to reading poetry, but he strangely found himself enjoying it. When he would feel uninspired with his music, he would always go back to the poems. Some he had read many times, underlining and annotating them with remarks, circling the words he found interesting, or highlighting the ideas that tugged on his heartstrings or made him think. When Baekhyun would be done, he would usually come to sit beside Chanyeol, their thighs touching, and the archer would busy himself with the Thermos, feeding both himself and Chanyeol while the latter would either be playing on the guitar or sharing his thoughts about the poems. Chanyeol had been surprised to see that Baekhyun liked poetry, and he found it funny when the latter admitted that he had found out quite recently too, thanks to Coach Choi when he had assigned him to read this poetry book to fight the anxiety. 

 

Sometimes fingers would slip, brushing locks of hair away, or a grain of rice stuck by the lips, sometimes even bold enough to wander on thighs, scratching at the seams of sweatpants, resting there just enough to leave a ghost of sensation once they would retreat back.  

 

There was this time too, they had been even bolder, when it was past 3AM but Baekhyun had insisted on staying, telling Chanyeol that he could go home if he wanted, that he would stay back, that he needed to practice. But Chanyeol had refused to leave Baekhyun on his own. He had made it his duty to accompany the boy back on his bicycle every night. It was his personal little pleasure, to be able to feel Baekhyun’s arms around his waist, and his weight against his back as they would sometimes talk, sometimes not, while Chanyeol drove him home up the slopes of Seoul. 

 

So that night, when Baekhyun had told him to go home on his own, Chanyeol had refused. He had of course fallen asleep on the bleachers eventually, awoken a bit later by fingers caressing his hairs, slipping themselves into his locks and combing them.

 

It was very rare for Baekhyun to be the one initiating anything. Chanyeol didn’t resent him for that. He understood. He let Baekhyun set the pace - Baekhyun never pushed him away when he tried something either, so it was nice, Chanyeol knew he could make a small move if he ever had the need for it. Baekhyun would be there.

 

Baekhyun liked hugs. Discreet ones. The kind where it wasn’t obvious you were hugging, when he would lean into Chanyeol’s side, bury his face in the crook of the taller’s neck and often, munch on the little black thread that was holding the wooden cross around Chanyeol’s neck. Chanyeol would then slip an arm around the small of Baekhyun’s back, and they would stay like this. 

 

So that time, Baekhyun was playing with Chanyeol’s hair past 3AM in the practice room while Chanyeol was dozing off on the bleachers. It felt nice. Baekhyun had this way of touching Chanyeol’s hair, so tenderly and delicately, as if he was untangling threads of silks from a very ancient and precious bobbin. 

 

Chanyeol had been awoken by the gesture, but he still kept pretending to be asleep. And then, as if he was still caught up in his dreams, he breathed Baekhyun’s name. Just to see how the boy would react. He breathed. 

 

_ Baekhyun… _

 

There had been nothing for a few seconds, so he did it again, more slowly this time, making sure to roll each sound on his lips. 

 

_ Baek… Hyun… _

 

A few other seconds passed before he heard a shaky exhale, and there was some pressure on his shoulder. Baekhyun had pressed his forehead, there, whispering something of his own. 

 

_ I love it when you call my name, Chanyeol.  _

 

Chanyeol had let one leg slip off the bench he was lying on, then the other, before he found himself sliding altogether off the bench as if nothing, letting his body go limp, and had Baekhyun pinned under him, on the floor, their bodies hidden between two rows of benches. It was silent, the whole practice room was theirs, the others having left a long while ago.

 

“‘Sup?” Chanyeol hummed nonchalantly, biting back an amused smirk as he was gazing down at Baekhyun who had his lips sealed tight, a slight blush coloring his cheeks, eyes dark.

 

And there indeed, Chanyeol leaned in, and kissed Baekhyun in the secrecy of the archery room. 

 

It was sweet, at first. Small kisses he peppered in Baekhyun’s chin, and jawline, making the archer sigh softly and curl his fingers in Chanyeol’s sleeves, before Chanyeol pressed one kiss on the nose, on the freckles he liked so much, and then he stopped, looking down at Baekhyun and smiling to him his charming smile that had something twitch in Baekhyun’s stomach everytime. 

 

Baekhyun said nothing. Instead he looped one finger through Chanyeol’s necklace and gently, but not less demandingly, pulled him down and let their lips meet. 

 

What was chaste at first turned a bit more heated when Baekhyun’s hands slid down Chanyeol’s back and found their way on his buttocks. Burying his hands in the back pockets of Chanyeol’s sweatpants, he pulled him forward, making their bodies flush against each other, and he bucked his hips up, enjoying the feeling of Chanyeol’s thigh between his legs.

 

Chanyeol was mesmerized at the sight of Baekhyun who had closed his eyes, scrunching his nose as he turned his head to the side, his fingers clawing at Chanyeol’s rear while he tried to muffle his pants of pleasure against his own shoulder. But the fact that he had wrapped on of his legs around the small of Chanyeol’s back hinted to his real desires, and Chanyeol just couldn’t not give in. 

 

Leaning in, he let his lips tasted the soft spot of skin under Baekhyun’s jaw, making the boy’s lips part and let out timid throaty sighs as Chanyeol moved his hips, making sure that his thigh would press against Baekhyun’s crotch, riling the archer up whose body had started to shudder and jolt, his breaths now messier, moans he couldn’t muffle and escaping from his lips as his fingers dug into Chanyeol’s clothed rear, still in the pockets. 

 

He seemed breathless, body undulating confusedly under Chanyeol’s as he was panting and moaning, chanting Chanyeol’s name softly between loud breaths.

 

Then hands suddenly came to Chanyeol’s shoulders, pushing him away. 

 

“Wait stop!” Baekhyun moaned. 

 

And faster than Chanyeol could recount, Baekhyun had crawled away, sitting with his knees propped against his chest, pupils blown and cheeks red, trying to catch back his breath. It was quite obvious that he was hard, and he was trying to hide it. 

 

Chanyeol was hard himself, to be honest. But he did nothing about it, just sat there, between the benches, looking at Baekhyun who was trying to catch back his breath . He looked quite small, a bit lost, definitely not comfortable, which was very understandable. He seemed a bit ashamed too, not knowing what to do with himself. It hurt Chanyeol, to see him like this. Getting on all fours, he waddled to Baekhyun, smiling gently at him.  Baekhyun didn't look up at him when Chanyeol set a hand on his shoulder.

 

"Are you okay there?" He asked sweetly, massaging Baekhyun's trapezius muscle. 

 

He appeared a bit tense, but he didn't push Chanyeol away. He seemed to be thinking for a few seconds, nodding his head after a while, not very convinced at first, trembling a bit, but then nodding more assuredly. He then let his body collapse against Chanyeol's, nuzzling his face like always in the crook of the taller's neck. His fingers went to play with the little wooden cross, caressing its edges and feeling the smooth lacquered surface under the pad of his thumb.

 

Chanyeol buried his lips in Baekhyun's locks, humming deeply, taking in his scent, inebriating himself on the parfums. "We did nothing to be ashamed of, Baekhyun." He inhaled, and he felt Baekhyun’s body shiver against his in response.

 

"Want me to help you with this?" He asked after a bit, pointing to Baekhyun's crotch. The latter blushed vividly, using his hands to hide the tent in his pants.

 

"Don't worry." Chanyeol chuckled, butting the tip of his nose against Baekhyun's cheek. "I have just the same." He said as he parted his legs, showing what he was talking about. He felt Baekhyun nodding against his shoulder, but he probably didn't understand what it meant, as he heard Baekhyun whisper against the shell of his ear a few seconds later.

 

"I do want you to help me with... this."

 

Chanyeol smiled an honest and slightly infatuated smile before he pecked Baekhyun's ear. "Sit there." He patted on the bench.

 

Baekhyun did as told, slowly getting up, and before he could sit, Chanyeol caught the hem of his sweatpants.

 

"May I?"

 

Baekhyun nodded, lips hidden in the collar of his sports jacket. Chanyeol gently pulled down Baekhyun's pants until mid thigh. He wasn't wearing any kind of undergarments. Chanyeol didn't say anything, only pressing his hands on Baekhyun knees gently so he would sit on the bench. He placed a quick peck on the inside of Baekhyun's thigh, feeling it shudder, before he looked up at Baekhyun.

 

"Do you have tissues?" He asked, his fingers drawing lines on the inside of the thigh, gentle and reassuring. Baekhyun nodded, taking out a pack of tissues form his pocket which Chanyeol took and placed on the bench not too far away.

 

Baekhyun's fingers were curled around the planks of the bench when Chanyeol took his shaft in his hands gently, giving it a small squeeze and stroking it once. Baekhyun's legs jittered, squeezing Chanyeol's form, as he was on his knees between Baekhyun's legs. But his fingers were fast to find their way to Chanyeol's curled mane as he felt the lips close themselves around the tip of his shaft, and suck at it slowly, tongue giving small kitten licks to the slit that had Baekhyun tremble and tug a bit more on the locks.

 

Then he felt his length being engulfed wholly, and it stole a breathy hiss from his lips. He leaned his head back, trying not to make too much sounds, but Chanyeol was good at this. He wasn't rushing, taking his time, he would make sure that Baekhyun had the time to feel each and every sensation, the way it would all constrict around his shaft, how warm and humid it was, and the way the tongue would come to graze at some particular spots that had Baekhyun's toes curl. It was making lewd wet noise, but this only further sent Baekhyun on the edge. 

 

He didn't last long, honestly, he was already very close to begin with, and Chanyeol was skilled. A particular harsh tug of his hair was enough for Chanyeol to understand, and he pulled away, quickly replacing his mouth with his hand, stroking Baekhyun to the acme of pleasure, while his free hand was busy trying to wriggle a tissue out of the plastic pack.

 

The archer’s body was trembling, his legs tights and strong around Chanyeol, his heels digging in the small of Chanyeol's back. His respiration was quick, messy and halted with moans and small cries, very discreet. Chanyeol let his index draw the line along the corona of the boy's shaft.

 

Baekhyun came with a choked moan in Chanyeol's hand, and on the tissue that Chanyeol had been just quick enough to set on his lap. Panting, his body went  limp, he almost fell forward, catching himself by Chanyeol's shoulder, he hugged him, hiding his face in the guitarist's hair as he tried to regain his breath while he came down from his high.

 

Chanyeol wrapped his arms around Baekhyun’s waist, burying his face in the archer's abdomen, he hugged him tight, saying nothing, simply enjoying the way Baekhyun's breathing slowly calmed down.

 

"Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun Baekhyun Baekhyun  _ Baekhyun _ ."

 

_ "Chanyeol." _

 

This was their little secret. Hidden somewhere in the archery room, only they knew what had happened. Days went by calmly, routine setting itself, but neither complained, as it was the happiest they had been in a long, long while.

  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  


He was late. He had gotten home very late that night, and as soon as his head had hit the cushion, he had fallen into deep slumber, forgetting to turn on his alarm for the morning. So he had woken up late. It was past 8AM, he should have been in the practice room two hours ago.

 

Hurtling down the stairs, Baekhyun quickly grabbed his bow case which he had left next to the entryway. He was about to put on his shoes, when a cold voice stopped him in his motion.

 

"That's no way to treat your bow, you know that." His mother was standing there, arms crossed over her chest. "You're late."

 

"I know." Baekhyun simply replied, putting on his first shoe.

 

"Why are you late?" His mother's tone didn't change. There were no particular emotions in it, or at least no emotions that a mother usually conveyed to their beloved children. She sounded so cold, so distant, simply patronizing.

 

"My alarm didn't ring." He let out, not bothering to give her a look.

 

"Why haven't you woken up?" She asked again, tone unfaltering.

 

"My alarm didn't ring." Baekhyun repeated, a bit annoyed. He could feel something digging in his chest, like a weight that was trying to crush him, making it a bit hard for his lungs to get access some air.

 

"You should have woken up at 5AM, you can't sleep in, it isn't good for your body."

 

"I was tired." Baekhyun countered back a bit bitterly, trying to untie his shoelaces. There was a big knot on them, he hadn't untied them properly the day before when he had taken them off.

 

"What were you tired from?" His mother sounded bitter, and baffled. "You've been slacking off. A true archer wouldn't even come back home, he would sleep in his practice room."

 

Baekhyun had a hard time trying to contain himself. Usually, his mother's harsh words would only make him feel worthless and guilty, but this morning, they seemed to be turning on the little flame that had his patience boil thin.

 

"I wasn't slacking off. I was in the practice room." He muttered between gritted teeth, his tone becoming impolite, he knew it, but he couldn't do anything about it. His shoelace wouldn't untie itself either, and it just made him more annoyed.

 

"I saw you come back on someone's bike."

 

Baekhyun stilled at that, feeling dread rush down his body, petrifying him. He barely dared breathing.

 

"Byun Baekhyun." His mother's voice rang loud, sharp, like a stalactite falling exactly on a small animal, impaling it to its own death.

 

"A friend drove me home, that's all." He muttered, leaning to pick up his second shoe.

 

"Who is that friend? You have no friends." His mother asked without a hint of diplomacy, harsh, words bitting, love absent. "Archers do not have the time for friends. You're only friend should be your bow, but look at this, you’re not even taking care of it." She rebuked. "Who is that friend of yours? I need to meet him." 

 

Baekhyun felt like ice had been poured on him. His airways were shrinking, and breathing was starting to get complicated. The air seemed to have become warm around him, too hot to be breathable. He blinked his eyes, and inhaled deeply, trying to calm down, but his mother's words weren't helping. 

 

"If he's a real friend he should know that he shouldn't be bothering you from your practice. I will come to the practice room today and I will talk to him. He needs to leave you alone. He's probably the reason why you have been doing so poorly lately."

 

"Stop it!" Baekhyun suddenly snapped, shouting at her. His voice resounded in the whole house, loud, crystal clear and so, so full of rage. A deep silence followed, only making the echoes of his own voice ring louder, more menacing.

 

"What?" His mother raised a brow, shaking her head in disbelief, there was something burning in his eyes. She was so scarily ugly.

 

"Stop it!" Baekhyun's voice only got louder. "Don't come! Stop talking shit! You have no idea what you're even talking about!"

 

He was lost. Lost in rage, desperation and hatred. Hatred for his own mother, his own flesh. Himself.

 

"Byun Baekhyun." She warned, but he was far too gone.

 

"You're such a hassle, just leave me alone." He hissed.

 

And the slap came. Swift, as if natural, making the same sound a plate falling to the ground and breaking into millions of pieces would. It left a burn. Deep. Throbbing.

 

"How dare you speak like this to your mother?"

 

But Baekhyun was barely fazed by this. He had looked hurt and surprised, disappointed, but within seconds, he realized that he had been waiting for this all along. For the moment when the very thin thread between his mother and him would snap, and all the things he had held inside would come out like an avalanche. He was a train without brakes, unstoppable.

 

"Stop! Just fucking stop!" He shouted at her, and she took a step back, surprised by the force of his voice, by the eloquence of his hatred. "You're no mother to me, you've never acted like one ever, so don't try and pretend that you did! You're not even letting me breathe!"

 

And she slapped him again. But this time, he only smiled.

 

"Don't come tonight." He shook his head, putting in his last shoes, not caring about the laces anymore. "And don't wait by the window to see if my friend drove me home. I won't come home tonight."

 

The door was slammed.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


There was something to Baekhyun’s presence when he held his bow. It made him seem tall, heroic and prestigious, as if he was a king leading his troops of warriors forward. That was how he shone when he would hold his bow. It always had Chanyeol feeling a bit hot, mesmerized and proud. 

 

Baekhyun had lean shoulders, and a nice body, beautiful lines of firm muscles that complimented well the curve of his bow. Had Chanyeol been a painter, Baekhyun would have definitely been his muse. But as a musician, all he could do was compose odes to the one that inspired him. It was part of the reasons why he came so much in the archery room, aside from the simple fact that he had a little something of a crush for Byun Baekhyun that he had learnt to water and tend to, making it bloom into radiant feelings of love he had no intentions of taming anymore. 

 

With his guitar on his lap, Chanyeol leaned back a bit, stretching his shoulder muscles. It was late. Coach Choi had left not so long ago, and all the other archers had done so as well. Baekhyun had barely moved away from his target, shooting, shooting, shooting restlessly. 

 

There was something more to his gestures today, Chanyeol had noticed, like a sort of rage that he was conveying onto his arrows, his movements sharper, slightly harsher, more aggressive. The fact that once he was done, he sat next to Chanyeol but didn’t touch the Thermos said a lot too. Baekhyun would usually be the one feeding them, eating the most, but Chanyeol didn’t mind about that, after all, he was practicing hard. But that night, Baekhyun didn’t immediately take the Thermos, and when he did, he only fed Chanyeol, not himself. 

 

“You’re not hungry?” Chanyeol asked softly after a spoonful of soup. 

 

Baekhyun only shook his head, taking another spoonful and presenting it to him. He was obviously upset, and Chanyeol wondered why. But he knew not to push. Baekhyun wasn’t the type to confide if he didn’t feel like it. Accepting the next spoon, he simply crawled closer to Baekhyun, setting a hand on his thigh and drawing random circles on the inside. He heard Baekhyun sigh softly and felt the boy lean closer against him. He was still sulking, but at least Chanyeol was assured he wasn’t the reason to Baekhyun’s moodiness. He was there if Baekhyun needed, that was all he could do for now.

 

Baekhyun started playing with his cross again, and Chanyeol slid an arm around his waist, bringing him closer. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Let’s go?” 

 

Baekhyun jumped at the sound of Chanyeol’s voice, making the latter frown. The archer still seemed on edge, looking around himself as if he was worried about something. He had really been off for the whole day, and it was starting to really worry Chanyeol.

 

“Come on, take a sit.” He mentioned gently, patting the seat. Baekhyun nodded, although reluctantly doing as told. 

 

Even when Chanyeol sat, Baekhyun didn’t hold onto him the same way he usually would. He didn’t lean against Chanyeol as he always would, and he seemed to be holding him just with the tips of his fingers, as if disdainful. 

 

Chanyeol pushed on the pedal, starting to drive through the park, following the lights by the usual path in the dark of the night. The temperature had fallen quite drastically since winter vacation had started. It had snowed a bit, although not enough for the snow to stick on the ground, but the weather forecast was planning bigger storms for the end of the year. Apparently this winter would be harsh, they said. 

 

It was always a pleasant moment, when he would drove the both of them back home with Django. It always was, usually, but tonight there was some looming tension in the air. As they arrived to the slope, the one where they had first talked, and the ones where they had first kissed, Chanyeol pushed on the brakes, making Django come to a halt just in the middle of the slope. As he turned around, Baekhyun was looking at him with intrigue in his eyes, albeit he was still pouting. 

 

“Something isn’t right.” Chanyeol murmured, and Baekhyun looked down, pressing his lips in a thin line.” “Something I can help with?” 

 

But Baekhyun just shook his head again, his fingers curling tighter around the hem of Chanyeol’s coat, he felt it.

 

“Then, may I kiss you?” Chanyeol hummed, leaning in and booping his nose with Baekhyun’s. It stole a small crooked smile from the archer.

 

“Please do.” He replied, looking up from under his lashes with a sly smirk on his lips. Chanyeol smirked back, shaking his head in disbelief. 

 

Baekhyun was riling him up like this, with his whole behaviour, and the aura that stemmed from him. And he knew it, he knew that doing this, acting unapproachable was doing things to Chanyeol’s sanity. He seemed to enjoy riling him up.

 

And Chanyeol had no composure to fight back. He was smitten, he knew it. So he leaned in, and although the position was uncomfortable, with his back twisted as he made sure that both his feet were on the ground so Django wouldn’t decide to roll down the slope, he stole the smile off Baekhyun’s lips with his, taking along with the chaste kiss a pleased sigh. 

 

Lips pressed against lips, he first only slowly moved them against Baekhyun’s, solely desiring to  feel the sensation of their flesh sharing a pure caress. Their breaths melted together into one as both sighed. There, Chanyeol felt something warm poking his lips, humid. Baekhyun’s tongue was asking for entrance. Feeling a bit playful, Chanyeol parted his lips, but only to catch Baekhyun’s tongue with them. It had the archer surprised - he grabbed onto Chanyeol's arms, sighing deeply as the guitarist starting sucking on his tongue, nipping at it gently, which had Baekhyun chuckle. 

 

It was probably meant as revenge when he decided to bite onto Chanyeol’s lower lip, but Baekhyun certainly hadn’t expected Chanyeol to tangle his fingers into his locks and pull at them abruptly, almost a bit harshly, tearing an excited gasp from him while he tilted his head on the side and clawed at Chanyeol’s arms. 

 

From there, the kiss took a hotter turn, tongues met and it was sloppy, not very coordinated. Baekhyun was tugging at Chanyeol’s coat, as if pleading him to get closer, while Chanyeol’s fingers were still pulling at Baekhyun’s hair, searching to feel, yearning to hear Baekhyun’s responses. Every little sigh, each muffled moan from the archer switched something inside of Chanyeol. 

 

He didn’t want to see Baekhyun sad. He didn’t want for his Fearless Moonbeam to be devoid of his sparkle. His hand travelled from his hair, to Baekhyun’s nape. Tender there, he massaged it. Baekhyun broke their lip lock, eyelids fluttering open as he sighed profoundly.

 

_ “I don’t want to go home.” _

 

There was so much sadness in the tone, like the desperate call of someone drowning. Chanyeol caught onto his hand, helping him out of the water of his worries.

 

“Sleep at my place then.” He smiled reassuringly, before pressing his forehead against Baekhyun’s and pulling the boy into a clumsy hug. 

 

He felt Baekhyun's lips against his neck, before he felt the thread of his necklace being pulled at. Baekhyun was munching on it again, nodding into the crook of Chanyeol’s shoulder. 

 

Yes, he wanted to spend the night at Chanyeol’s.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“There.” Chanyeol opened the door to his studio with some reserved politeness. Baekhyun got into the apartment first, placing his shoes next to the entryway and letting all his bags fall on the floor. “Well, you’ve already been here so you know your way around.” Chanyeol mumbled as he scratched his head. “It’s not like there much room to roam around anyway.”

 

“It’s fine.” Baekhyun chuckled, “I won’t get lost.” He smiled softly at Chanyeol.

 

They were standing next to the door, both facing each other. It could have felt a bit awkward, but they just stood like this, facing each other while something just happened. They couldn’t exactly say what it was, but it felt as if a current was passing between them, back and forth, like waves of unspoken attraction. It was palpable. Chanyeol reached first for Baekhyun. Slowly, he unzipped the archer’s coat. Taking a single step forward, not locking eyes with Baekhyun, he let his fingers slip down, pulling on the zipper.

 

“I can do it myself you know.” Baekhyun breathed, but he sounded far from reluctant, letting Chanyeol do as he pleased. The guitarist simply hummed. He knew, but that changed nothing. That changed nothing of his desire to be the one undressing Baekhyun. 

 

He pushed the coat off Baekhyun’s shoulders, catching it before it would fall to the ground. And extending his hand, he hooked the clothes to the coat rail hanging on the door, before taking his own off and doing just the same.

 

Baekhyun was still standing in front of him, unmoving. So Chanyeol proceeded to take off his scarf. Cautiously. It ended up on the rack too. And they stood there, silent, standing in front of each other. It felt nice. 

 

Baekhyun’s hand went for the hem of Chanyeol’s hoodie. It caught onto it, tugging slightly, but not really pulling. Chanyeol stared at his hands - Baekhyun had pretty hands. If he was an artist, he was pretty sure Baekhyun’s hands would be his favorite thing to draw. But he was no artist, so he simply watched the hand, how the index falteringly wandered under the cloth, meeting with the warm skin on his abdomen, barely touching it with the tip of the first knuckle. 

 

Chanyeol held his breath for a bit, his gaze traveling up the arm, to its beholder, eyes locking with Baekhyun’s. They were a vast lake of obscurity, looking so deep Chanyeol felt immersed, like Narcissus seeing his reflection for the first  time, falling in love with it. Looking into these bright yet obscure irises, Chanyeol felt himself falling in love all over again. And he didn’t regret. There was no nicer feeling than the one of falling in love with Byun Baekhyun. If he could, he would do it over and over and over and over and over again. Ad infinitum. 

 

He didn’t see it, but he felt it, when the finger snaked down his abdomen, and a hand pressed itself against his crotch. Baekhyun’s eyes were still as dark - Chanyeol exhaled profoundly. Baekhyun put some more pressure, Chanyeol took a step back, body coming to rest against the wall. Baekhyun took a step forward, hand palming Chanyeol who closed his eyes and leaned his head back, lips parted but silent moans escaping from them. It felt nice, so nice. Baekhyun’s hand was moving very marginally, emitting just enough friction for Chanyeol’s knees to grow weak. His own hand wrapped itself around Baekhyun’s wrist, and he pulled the archer forward, looping his arms around the boy’s waist and catching him as his limp body fell into his embrace. Baekhyun tiptoed, reaching for Chanyeol lips, but before they kissed, both moaned lasciviously, their bodies grinding against each other, their intimacies brushing and awakening a throbbing desire. Lips met. Chanyeol straightened his hold around Baekhyun’s hips. Baekhyun dug his nails into Chanyeol’s shoulder, undulating his body forward, still tiptoeing, seeking for pleasure for both of them. Chanyeol’s lips derived from Baekhyun’s, peppering kisses along his cheek, jaw, neck, ear - Baekhyun leaned his head back, arching his body, sighing wistfully while Chanyeol lips drew a line along the archer’s shoulder, taking in his perfume, getting drunk on Baekhyun’s odor. He then plunged his teeth into the shoulder, and Baekhyun shuddered in his arms, slamming his hands on the wall, above Chanyeol’s head. 

 

“You drive me mad.”

 

It wasn’t clear who had breathed it. Both were breathless, panting from the suffocating desire. Chanyeol’s hands travelled down the small of Baekhyun’s back, landing on the buttocks to which he gave a gentle squeeze. Baekhyun arched his back in response, chanting a moan as he bit down on his lips all the while looking for Chanyeol’s sanity in his irises. He found it. Stole it. Chanyeol wheezed. 

 

Suddenly, he pushed Baekhyun into the bed, rolling on top of him. Baekhyun was panting, The cross on Chanyeol’s neck funnily hanging just above his lips. Baekhyun was fast to reach up and catch it with his teeth, tugging at it with a small bestial grunt that had Chanyeol chuckle in a husky voice. 

 

“Hey there.” He purred against the shell of Baekhyun’s ear since he was stuck there, Baekhyun still having the cross in his mouth. And he was clearly enjoying Baekhyun’s body losing it, falling into a sequence of trembles as Chanyeol’s tongue drew along the line of his earshell, panting in his ear, before he went to nip at his earlobe.

 

“God.” Baekhyun let out shalily, his finger going to scratch down Chanyeol’s shoulder blades. 

 

He pushed the wooden cross out of his mouth with the tip of his tongue, freeing Chanyeol from his prison. The cross was slicked with saliva, glimmering under the neon lights. 

 

“That’s me.” Chanyeol teasingly bit at Baekhyun’s ear, making the archer giggle as he tried to escape from the ministration. It was ticklish. 

 

Trying to take his revenge, Baekhyun was quick to roll Chanyeol on the side and crawl on top of him. He stopped there, looking down at the guitarist who wasn’t fighting him off. Chanyeol was just lying there, with his hands above his head, looking up at Baekhyun almost religiously. 

 

Baekhyun did nothing, and only held Chanyeol’s gaze. It was intense. So intense that it made him feel a bit scared, panic blooming in his chest. He smoothed his palm over Chanyeol’s chest, above the name of their university which was printed on the front of the hoodie Chanyeol was wearing. 

 

Meanwhile, Chanyeol’s hand was resting on his thigh, thumb scratching at the seams of his sweatpants. 

 

Chanyeol was hard, Baekhyun could feel it. He was sitting on it. He closed his eyes, exhaling through his lips. It felt nice. He moved his hips a bit. He was hard too. 

 

He pressed both his palms on Chanyeol’s chest, lifting his body a bit so he could have a better angle. He wasn’t sure of what he was doing, but his instincts were leading him. He just wanted to feel. Feel Chanyeol’s hardness against him. His against Chanyeol. Share this moment. Share something intimate. Something he had been longing for so long now - something he couldn’t name but something he knew he desired with every fiber of his soul. 

 

His palms pulled up Chanyeol’s hoodie. Bringing it up slightly, showing a range of nice abdomen. He let his fingers tentatively draw their form, enjoying their lines. The skin was smooth, lightly bronzed. 

 

“You work out.” He whispered. Chanyeol hummed.

 

“Gotta keep what’s left in shape.” 

 

Baekhyun bit down on his lip, understanding. 

 

“I can remove the top if you want.” Chanyeol didn’t wait for Baekhyun’s approval to do it. Sitting up, he was quick to peel his hoodie off and toss it somewhere in the room farther away. In a moment of passion, Baekhyun did just the same, peeling his shirt off, he let it fall to the floor, barely having the time to do so as Chanyeol hands drew lines up his back and buried his face in Baekhyun's chest, covering it with kisses while Baekhyun's body stiffened in pleasure. 

 

Baekhyun’s hands went for the shoulders. The skin was warm, it was pleasant. He let his palms slid down, on the biceps, elbows, hands. He had wondered for a while, how this would be. How Chanyeol looked under his clothes, how his skin would feel under his epidermis, which reaction he would get if he did this or that. 

 

Baekhyun threaded their fingers together, sitting on Chanyeol’s lap. Chanyeol kissed his temple, but Baekhyun’s eyes were somewhere else. 

 

There were small, very small white lines on Chanyeol’s skin, on his chest. One was still quite pink, quite new. Scars. Many tiny little scars on his chest. 

 

_ “Don’t look please.”  _

 

Baekhyun didn’t have much time to ponder over it as a hand tilted his chin up, and lips met his. He loosely wrapped his arms around Chanyeol’s shoulders kissing him back. It was wet, messy, needy. But it felt nice, so nice. They didn't have to think. Only losing themselves into the moment. 

 

Baekhyun set a hand on Chanyeol’s chest, pushing him away a bit. Their noses were still touching. He blinked hard, trying to catch back his breath, but Chanyeol was tugging at the hem of his sweatpants, so Baekhyun got on his knees, making it easier for his pants to be taken off. Chanyeol's hands smoothed along the curve of his buttocks. He wasn't wearing any briefs again. Baekhyun just helped him with the rest, hurriedly kicking his sweatpants away before he started tugging on the hem of Chanyeol's as he kissed his shoulder. The guitarist was more reluctant though. 

 

“Wait. Wait.” Chanyeol panted, holding Baekhyun by the wrists. “It's… It's certainly not what you're expecting…” he looked away, biting down on his lower lip. Then he started mumbling very fast. “It's normal, and then it reaches just under the knee and there's a bit there, it's all skin and-  _ Ah! _ ”

 

He was cut by a jolting pain that rushed from his right nipple, and as he looked down, he saw the culprit. Baekhyun was licking at the pinkish bud he had just bitten, gaze intense. 

 

Chanyeol just closed his eyes, letting his body fall against the mattress. 

 

Baekhyun had found his sweet spot. 

 

He tangled his fingers into the locks, enjoying the pleasing sensations that were crippling. The lips moved down, butterflies on Chanyeol's stomach, then they reached for his hip. Pressed a kiss there. 

Chanyeol felt his pants being pulled down. He held his breath, feeling apprehensive. The pants went below his knees, stuck a bit around the ankles, then gone. 

 

“Lord…” Baekhyun gasped. 

 

Chanyeol felt something burst in his chest at the sound of it, something weighing down on his stomach. He wanted to crawl away, hide himself under the covers. Baekhyun had seen. Baekhyun was disgusted. Of course he would be. He  _ was  _ disgusting. 

 

“It's magnificent.”

 

Chanyeol froze. Lips pressed themselves against the inside of thigh, fingers slowly travelling above. He let his eyes flutter open. Baekhyun was examining the ink work, tip of his digits drawing along the lines of the customized nine-tailed fox. 

 

“I didn't know you had a tattoo.”

 

Chanyeol worried his lower lip between his teeth. His eyes were stinging. In a rush of emotions, he grabbed Baekhyun by the chin, sitting up, he tilted it, crashing their lips together. 

 

Baekhyun seemed disoriented for a few seconds before he moved to get closer to Chanyeol, setting himself back on the boy's lap. By doing so, he felt his shaft rub against Chanyeol's thigh, just where the tattoo was. It made him shiver. 

 

Chanyeol probably noticed, as he propped his leg up a bit, pressing further against Baekhyun's crotch. It made him moan, his body trembling and a knot forming in his guts. Holding himself by Chanyeol's arm, Baekhyun pressed his forehead against Chanyeol’s chest while the latter was still moving his leg, rubbing it against his intimacy. 

 

It was consuming his sanity. Slowly, slowly, his sight turned red, black dots blinking, blood pounding in his head. He felt warm, so warm, like his whole body was on fire. Breathing was hard, he was gasping, he wasn't even really aware of his gestures, but this just felt so nice. 

 

Chanyeol’s thigh was so soft, supple and snug just like he needed, and Baekhyun couldn't help but envision it despite his closed eyelids, his shaft rubbing against the inked nine-tailed fox. Back and forth, back and forth. It was so filthy, and yet, it was tilting him up. 

 

He wasn't even really conscious of what was happening around him, he could feel Chanyeol’s tongue, it was licking along his ear shell again, pants sounding even louder, so hot, so enticing. Baekhyun was losing it, his body writhing on its own, hips undulating as he rode Chanyeol's thigh, against the tattoo. 

 

“ _ Baekhyun.” _

 

He lost it. Right there and then. When Chanyeol's lips susurrated his name against his lips, like a prayer, like a moan, so intimately honest and emotional. His body trembled, toes curling, a wave of electricity rushing through his veins. He came with a guttural, choked moan on Chanyeol's thigh. White cum against the back ink. 

 

His body was limp, knees weak, he was breathless. And all he could see were the white blotches staining the tattoo. He couldn't look away from it. 

 

He had stained it. 

 

What he had imagined and gotten high on just a few seconds ago was now in front of him, and he felt so, so, so disgusted. Like a wave that had crashed over him, left him barren of the beauty of his fantasies, showing him only their ugly facet. 

 

Regret. 

 

“Fuck.” 

 

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe he couldn't breathe he couldn't  _ breathe.  _ His trachea was stuffed, his lungs not responding. He was underwater. Sinking. Drowning. Suffocating. He tried to gasp for air but it hurt. He couldn't breathe, and his eyes were stinging so much. 

 

“Hey…” 

 

Baekhyun felt something around his shoulders, it was soft and caring. He inhaled deeply through his nose, trying to calm down. It was a scent he knew, a scent he liked. He tried to breathe through his nose again, exhaling through his mouth, lungs awakening softly. He breathed deeply. 

 

“It's okay, you're okay Hyun.” 

 

Fingers against his cheek, slipping through his locks. Baekhyun looked up, feeling like drowning man getting his head out of the water. 

 

Chanyeol was there, looking at him. He could see him. He could feel him. 

 

Baekhyun hid his face in his arms, catching the tears that had gathered in his eyes like this. Calming his respiration, he realized he had been sobbing. He tried to stop. Calm down. 

 

“You're okay Hyun, you've done nothing to be ashamed of.”

 

“I’m sorry.” He exhaled, gasping, voice like a whisper. He blinked, pinching the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. He was okay. He was okay. 

Chanyeol's hands were rubbing his back. He pulled him into a hug, Baekhyun let himself be taken away. He closed his eyes. Like this, he felt like it was okay. Like he had the right to breathe. 

 

His respiration slowed down. With Chanyeol's lips against his temple, both of them lying naked under the fuzzy blanket, he fell asleep feeling like he had the right to breathe. 

  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  
  


Baekhyun seemed to be in a good mood as he paced towards Chanyeol up the stairs of the bleachers. There was almost some jump to his steps, it had Chanyeol smile.

 

“Are you this happy to see me again or is it because I am bringing you food?” He lifted an eyebrow playfully, watching Baekhyun sit beside him.

 

“Food obviously.” The archer shrugged, taking the Thermos away from Chanyeol without a single glance to the guitarist. It left him flabbergasted.

 

“I can’t believe I am being jealous of some chicken right now.” He shook his head in disbelief, watching as Baekhyun hummed after a forkful of sweet crispy chicken. 

 

“What can I say,” Baekhyun gave a little dreamy smile, “he feeds me more than you.” 

 

Chanyeol almost choked on this one, coughing to catch himself back. Baekhyun marked a pause, placing the Thermos on his lap, thoughtful. Around them, some were still training. It was quite early for once, Baekhyun hadn’t really had lunch since they had a late breakfast together at home, thus he was hungry earlier. Coach Choi seemed to be busy talking to Daehyun - the latter having been chosen for a competition Baekhyun had refused to take part in as he had to focus on his training for the World Championships. 

 

Jongdae who was training too had waved in their direction, winking playfully, which had Baekhyun roll his eyes and Chanyeol grin. He was a sly fox, Baekhyun liked to call him that - Jongdae didn’t need to be told things to understand. This morning when Chanyeol had driven Baekhyun to the practice room on his bike, Jongdae had immediately whistled, congratulating them saying there was that  _ glow _ to them. Baekhyun hadn’t even tried to refute anything, simply ignoring his noisy friend who had consequently started screeching like a pterodactyl for attention.

 

“You know actually, I’m sorry about yesterday.” Chanyeol heard Baekhyun murmure behind his fork.

 

The guitarist turned to look at him, slightly confused. “Why is it?”

 

“I came so fast, you didn’t even have time you enjoy yourself. We went to sleep directly afterwards. I feel bad about that.” Baekhyun said in a very faint voice, Chanyeol thought he had misheard. “I saw you taking care of yourself in the shower later, I woke up.”

 

Chanyeol choked on his own spit, sending him to cough. He gave some light punches to his chest, trying to regain his breathing while Baekhyun was staring at him with curious eyes. 

 

“It’s fine, I don’t mind at all.” The guitarist finally whispered, hiding his mouth behind his fist, cheeks lightly colored. “And seeing you enjoy yourself makes me enjoy myself too.” He added, quickly glancing at Baekhyun.

 

The latter was blushing. Trying to ease the awkwardness, he took another forkful of the chicken, stuffing it in his mouth.

 

“Next time, I’ll take care of you.” He suddenly said very seriously, staring at Chanyeol with a grain of rice stuck next to his lips. 

 

Chanyeol stared at it, another cough escaping from his chest as he tried to conceal the blush he could feel creeping on his cheeks. 

 

“Baekhyun.” A voice suddenly interrupted them.

 

Baekhyun almost dropped the Thermos, his blood as if drained from his body, chest automatically clutching painfully.  _ She was there. _ She was there she was there she was there. 

 

He got up from his seat like an arrow, almost losing his balance. He had done nothing wrong, and yet he couldn’t help the bubble of guilt that was growing inside of his, pressing against his lungs, making it so hard to breathe. He gave a panicked glance towards Chanyeol’s direction, before he finally managed to part his lips, a weak sound coming out of them.

 

“Mom.”

 

“What are you doing?” Her voice was cold, slashing, fiercer than the arrows Baekhyun would shoot at his targets. 

 

“Eating. It’s break time, Coach Choi told me to go and eat.” He breathed. 

 

Chanyeol was still seating on the bench, observing the scene with a frown. Baekhyun looked so small. He was slightly taller than his mother, and yet, holding tightly onto the Thermos, with this stance, he looked smaller than ever. 

 

Chanyeol felt his instincts soar, he wanted to take Baekhyun into his arms and shield him from this lady’s view. But this lady was Baekhyun’s mother. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. 

 

“You’re the only one who isn’t practicing.” She slurred. It was so frightening, the way she spoke so slowly, like she was enjoying seeing Baekhyun crumble in front of her. “You shouldn't be eating. You shouldn't be slacking off. You should be practicing.”

 

“It’s my break time.” Baekhyun murmured between clenched teeth. His fingers were trembling around the Thermos, Chanyeol was starting to get really irritated by the scenery. 

 

“Madam.” He tried, standing up to get beside Baekhyun, setting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. 

 

However, he felt Baekhyun stiffen, as if Chanyeol’s touch had  _ hurt  _ him. The guitarist tried to ignore it, instead massaging the shoulder gently, in hopes he would reassure Baekhyun. Tell him he was there. 

 

“Who are you to talk to me?” Baekhyun's mother suddenly snapped at Chanyeol. 

 

She pulled at Baekhyun’s wrist, freeing him from Chanyeol’s hold. Baekhyun was surprised by the sudden harsh gesture, he almost tripped on his feet, and couldn’t hide the glance of panic he sent on Chanyeol’s way. 

 

“Who are you to even dare talking to my son? With these delinquent looks of yours. You probably think you’re some show, but you are nothing.” She spat under Chanyeol’s bewildered eyes. 

 

There seemed to be no other sound than the one of Baekhyun’s mother’s voice in the practice room. Baekhyun saw it. Everyone was looking at them. He tried to pull at his mother’s hand, telling her to stop, but she only squeezed his wrist harder, the one that wasn’t in good shape, he hissed in pain. 

 

Chanyeol was just standing there, dumbfounded. There was something in his eyes, Baekhyun couldn’t actually read what it wasn but there was pain, very clearly. 

 

“Mom…” He tried to make her stop again, but she was too far gone. 

 

Her eyes landed on the guitar case that was lying on the bench. On it were the stickers. One in particular stood out. A rainbow flag. She scoffed, rolling her eyes in a mix of disbelief and disgust. She took a step forward, setting herself between Baekhyun and Chanyeol. 

 

“You’re a disgusting little deviation.” She seethed. “You’re going against the nature  of things. You’re just _ repugnant _ . A shame to the world and to the God you are wearing the cross of!” 

 

Her hold around Baekhyun’s hurting wrist was becoming so violent, he was trying not to squirm in pain. His respiration was getting messy, air not coming rightly into his lungs. Chanyeol wasn’t saying anything, lips sealed in a tight line, eyes morose and dark, jaw clenched. 

 

Baekhyun didn’t want that. He didn’t want Chanyeol to hear such things, for they were false. Completely false.

 

Chanyeol was beautiful. Chanyeol was radiant. Chanyeol was joy, freedom and happiness all in one. He was what was keeping Baekhyun’s sanity at bay. If nothing, he was the one who had saved him out of the water his mother had threw him in.  

“People like you are the ones that are going to get chewed by society because they didn’t try to fit in accordingly. You look like a slacker. You’ll end up jobless at this point. I feel bad for your parents, they probably tried hard to raise you, but you’re just a failure.”

 

“Mom, stop it!” Baekhyun suddenly snapped, wrestling his arm away from her hold. The Thermos dropped to the floor, its content spilled. Baekhyun wanted to cry. 

 

“How dare you get close to my son and distract him from his archery?” His mother ignored him, pointing her finger at an unresponsive Chanyeol whose head was bowed, and whose lips were white from how tightly he was chewing on them. “Look at you, even I am ashamed of you.”

 

Suddenly, she grabbed Baekhyun by the wrist again, pulling him away. She kicked the Thermos on her way, making it roll down the stairs of the bleachers, spreading the chicken and the rice down on it. 

 

“What are you doing?” Baekhyun tried to pull away, but she was holding him so strongly, pulling him forward as she marched toward the exit of the archery room.

 

Everyone was still looking at them. Daehyun seemed amused, beside Coach Choi who had his arms crossed over his chest, face dark. Jongdae looked worried too. But Baekhyun only had eyes for Chanyeol. 

 

Looking back, twisting his neck, he was trying to see how Chanyeol was coping. If he was alright. But Chanyeol wasn’t looking at him. He seemed to be staring at his feet, maybe at the food on the floor, Baekhyun wasn’t sure. 

 

One this he was sure of was how his heart was twisting, how his lungs were burning. His vision was slowly turning red, black dots appearing on it.

 

“Let’s go.” His mother tried to hush him, tugging at his wrist. 

 

“What are you doing?!” Baekhyun shouted, feeling his eyes sting. It hurt. 

 

It just so much. There was fire in his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He just couldn’t. He could feel the stares in his neck. They were probably all laughing. They were probably all thinking he was pitiful. 

 

And there was Chanyeol. Chanyeol whom he wanted to hug, tell that he was sorry over and over again. But he couldn’t find his voice anymore. He couldn’t mutter a word, it felt as if his voice was prisoner of the cage that was growing in his chest, around his lungs, slowly, slowly asphyxiating him. 

 

“We’re going home.” He heard his mother hiss behind the drumming of his own blood in his ears. 

His head was spinning. He could barely walk, less so to fight against her. He felt himself being dragged, and after a while, he was seated. In the car. They were in the car. He was clutching his head, trying to regain his breathing, stop making the world spin around him.

 

But even when the whole world was spinning and falling apart, all he could see on the back of his eyelids was the vision of Chanyeol, head bowed, lips white. Hurt. Because of him.

 

“It’s because of him that you haven’t been practicing accordingly for the past weeks.” His mother vociferated. “He’s only distracting you!” 

 

Baekhyun heard the sound of the engine coming to life, and he felt it move, but his head was a mess, his lungs were slowly giving out, like lava shoved down his throat. He was shaking. His whole body was on fire, but he was shaking madly, as if caught into the claws of a freezing iceberg. He was going mad. He was slowly going mad. 

 

“Look, Daehyun has been doing better and better meanwhile your results are still mediocre!” His mother went one step further. “You won’t get anywhere like this! If you keep seeing him, you’ll end up being a beggar just like him. You have to stop seeing him.” She summoned. “Focus on archery, Baekhyun, that’s your sole purpose in life. Nothing else is important. All you have is archery.” 

 

Baekhyun’s fingers clawed into the handle of the car. He wished he could just open it, and jump. Die right there on the spot. He couldn’t take this anymore. He couldn’t take this pain. But he didn’t even have the force to open the door. However, despite how loud and deafening his own wheezing breathing sounded to his ears, his mother’s poisonous words always overtook them, he couldn’t unhear them. They were there, poisoning his mind, slowly killing the last sparkle of sanity he had tried so hard to hang onto. 

 

“You can’t fail this. Archery won’t ever let you down, but people will. Don’t trust people. The only thing that will bring you somewhere is archery, so don’t stop training. You still aren’t on top. Until you crush them all, you can’t stop training. But this person out there, he’s just toxic for you, he won’t bring you anything.”

 

There are different stages of pain. At first, it is bearable, and the more it grows, the more painful it becomes, until you reach this certain stage where the pain is so excruciating that you don’t even feel it anymore. You just float in this certain state of numbness, as if your soul was parting from your body, and despite the fact that you could see yourself suffering, you couldn’t even feel it anymore. Pain becomes a habit, if you are exposed to it for as far as you can remember. 

 

Lately, Baekhyun had felt as if he had been escaping from this pain. Chanyeol had been the light, the hand that had gotten him out of his suffering. His hummingbird, humming to his ear words that everything would be okay. 

 

The pain was gone. It was gone. Everything was gone. 

 

_ “Baekhyun?” _

 

It felt nice, to not feel anything anymore.

 

_ “Baekhyun!” _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When he entered the practice room the next day, he was immediately called by Coach Choi into his office. Baekhyun sighed, but he was not surprised. He had expected it. As soon as he had pushed the door of the archery room open, all eyes had been on him. It made him quiver. 

 

People liked to gossip, and he had just gave them the perfect subject to nutrish their little talks. It wasn’t so often that something exciting happened in there, so he could understand them. You had to kill the routine somehow. He just regretted that he had to be the center of this negative attention. 

 

Ignoring them, and especially Daehyun’s amused smirk, he walked to Coach Choi’s office, knocking on the door before entering.

 

“Byun Baekhyun.” The man greeted him from his desk, he bowed in salutation. The coach showed him the chair in front of the desk, so Baekhyun went to sit on it. 

 

“How are you feeling, boy?” Coach Choi was never the type to show it, but here it was obvious that there was some concern in him, although he was trying to conceal it. 

 

“Good.” Baekhyun replied, nodding. It wasn’t a lie. He was feeling good, physically. Mentally, it was another thing. He was exhausted. 

 

“I went to the hospital yesterday when I heard you had fainted, but you were still sleeping so I couldn’t see you.” The man explained, tapping his fountain pen against the desk in rhythm. 

 

“It was nothing.” Baekhyun shrugged, “Just fatigue.”

 

Coach Choi observed him for a while, seemingly plunged in his thoughts. Baekhyun felt the weight of his stare. It wasn’t judgemental per se, more like analyzing him. But the silence was starting to weigh on his shoulders, it made him feel as if he had to say something. Despite himself, he said more than he had initially planned to.

 

“You know, yesterday, for the first time, I couldn’t hear it anymore.” He whispered, glancing up to see that Coach Choi was looking at him with an intrigued frown. “I couldn’t here all the voices telling me what I had to do, how I was supposed to live my life, judging me without stopping.” Baekhyun nodded, this time holding his coach’s stare. “When I fainted, I couldn’t hear anything anymore. It felt so nice.”

 

Coach Choi heaved a sigh at that, stretching his arms and leaning back into his chair, setting his hands on his belly. He worried his lower lips between his teeth, chewing on it for a few seconds before he leaned back and set his arms on his desk.

 

“Baekhyun.” He placed his voice in the low tones, grave and serious. “You know that the world Championships are in a little less than two months, right?” Baekhyun nodded. Of course he knew. “Starting January, you will enter an intensive period of training. It’s going to be hard. Probably harder than what you’ve ever been through in terms of training.” He rubbed his sweaty palms against his thighs, shaking his head with a small sigh. “The pressure is going to get immense. Unbearable, at some days. People will keep pointing out what’s wrong with what you do. Some will think that you won’t be able to do it. Some might even tell you that you don’t belong there, among the best. Things, people will try to come in your way, make you lose your balance.” 

 

Baekhyun was chewing on the inside of his cheek, trying hard to keep a poker face, not show his emotions, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from blinking. He could see where the conversation was headed. It wasn’t a new topic.  

 

“Mental strength is going to be your best pal, your line of life. I am not saying that there is anything wrong with you, I’m just saying, I think it would be better for you to go to a psychologist.” Coach Choi said with fatherly tone, sounding truly concerned. “Get someone who will follow you and help you through the pressure that you’re facing. Every athlete needs it, I tend to think.”

 

Baekhyun smiled. He was smiling, but his gaze was stuck on the fountain pen which was lying on the desk. And he shook his head, still smiling.

 

“I can’t…” He looked up. “I can’t, coach.” He saw that Coach Choi was about to retort something, but he went on with his trail of thoughts before the elder man could cut him. “In this country, going to a psychologist isn’t like buying flowers.” Baekhyun chuckled humorlessly at his own comparison. “Even if you’re sane, people will look at you like you aren’t, they will label you as crazy. I would be seen as the family’s disgrace.” 

 

There was something in his eyes, in the way he stared at Coach Choi that had the latter shiver. If it was the intensity of those eyes, or instead how blank the light in them was, he wasn’t sure. But it was frightening. 

 

“This is how South Korea is. The social stigma about mental health is such. It is real and it is terrifying. There is just no way my mother would ever let me go to a psychologist.”

 

“Baekhyun…” 

 

“I understand where you’re coming from, coach.” Baekhyun cut him politely, with a small smile. “But understand my position too. I just can’t.” He shook his head. “All I can do is hold onto my bow tightly and strive for things to be the best they can. Whatever happens to me in the process doesn’t matter. As long as I make my family proud.”

 

Saying this, Baekhyun excused himself. Getting up, he walked to the door, bowing as he was about to exit. 

 

Like this, he didn’t hear what Coach Choi murmured to himself as he buried his hands in his face.

 

“This isn't how it works, Byun Baekhyun… The one you should make proud is yourself. If you aren’t proud of yourself, there is no way others could be proud of you.”

  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  
  


He couldn’t do it. No matter how much he tried, his fingers pressed against the metallic string, pulling on it, he couldn’t. His body wouldn’t move, his mind a chaos. At first, he couldn’t release his strings, like feet rooted to the ground, he would stand in front of his target, and stare at them like he was waiting for the moist to appear on them. 

 

After long minutes, his fingers would release the string on their own, his arrows barely making it on the target. But after awhile, he couldn’t ever find the force to draw on his string anymore. Like his whole body had become a shell, Baekhyun’s mind was ringing with a single question.

 

Why was he doing this?

 

It was as if he had lost sight of what he wanted, and the targets in front of him had become meaningless. 

 

Chanyeol wasn’t here today either. It has been five days now. Five days since Baekhyun couldn’t shoot, his body unresponding. Five days since he hadn’t seen, talked nor heard about Chanyeol. He couldn’t breathe. It felt as if his body was moving on its own - it wasn't moving at all. No will left, nothing. He was nothing. His life was nothing. Everything seemed so meaningless. And Chanyeol wasn't there. It was so hard to breathe when Chanyeol wasn't there. He couldn't even understand what he was doing holding a bow. What was the purpose? Just, what? 

 

Tired. That was all. He was just so tired. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He had done it on an impulse. He wasn't even sure how his mind had worked toward this accomplishment, but it had happened. Once home, when he had realized his mother wasn't there, he had thrown all the needed clothes he could find into a bag, and stuffing dog food along with the rest, he attached the leash to Mongryeong’s collar, and there he was now, standing at the foot of a building up a slope not too far from Itaewon, with his phone pressed against his ear, the device beeping. After some seconds, a husky voice replied. 

 

_ “Baekhyun?” _

 

The archer’s heart squeezed a bit. It felt like ages since he had heard this voice. He had missed it so much. 

 

“Chanyeol…” He breathed, closing his eyes, suddenly feeling more appeased. 

 

“What's happening? Are you alright?” Chanyeol sounded worried. 

 

There was the sound of some shuffling on his side of the line. His voice was slightly muffled on the phone, but Baekhyun loved it nonetheless. He loved Chanyeol's voice so much. It was something he had realized that time, when he had heard the boy sing. Chanyeol had the kind of voice that immediately brought peace to your soul. Baekhyun loved it so much. 

 

“Yeah, I'm alright.” He whispered. “I'm alright now.” He pressed his smartphone against his lips for a few seconds, try to gather the courage needed to say what he had to. 

 

Chanyeol was patient on the other line - he seemed to have noticed the tension in Baekhyun's voice. He was giving him time. He was always so understanding. 

 

Baekhyun decided to go for it. 

 

“My hand… It doesn't work anymore. The bow… It… It just doesn't want to… I can't hit any single target…” 

 

He shook his head. This wasn't it. This wasn't what he had intended to say. 

 

“I… I am currently homeless, and ugh-” His voice broke a bit. 

 

He took a shaky inhale, in hopes it would clear his voice a bit, calm him down too, maybe. 

 

“I don't know why I… I just ended up leaving… I have my bag and ugh, I have Mongryeong with me…” 

 

His voice was breaking, it was so ugly. His knees had gave out under him, and he was now just a ball curled in the sidewalk, hugging his knees and trying not to break down completely as his corgi was gently poking his snout into his cheek, trying to cheer him up. 

 

“I got lost. I think I'm lost I… I'm at the front of your building and ugh… I am completely lost.”

 

“Baekhyun…” Chanyeol whispered.

 

“ _ Yeol, please help me _ .”


	4. Chapter 4 Part 1

[ Take one me (Acoustic vers.) ](https://youtu.be/-xKM3mGt2pE) \- A-ha

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_Fourth chapter. (Part 1)_ **

  
  
  


**_\-----------------_ **

_ We're talking away, I don't know what _

_ I'm to say I'll say it anyway _

_ Today's another day to find you shying away _

_ I'll be coming for your love, okay? _

_ Take on me  _

_ I'll be gone in a day or two _

_ So needless to say I'm odds and ends _

_ But I'll be stumbling away _

_ Slowly learning that life is okay _

_ Say after me, it's no better to be safe than sorry _

 

**_-Take on Me, A-ha_ **

**_\-----------------_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It was raining outside, when Chanyeol’s phone had rang. Seeing the ID on the screen, his first thoughts had been to ignore the call. But Baekhyun never called him. Never. So the sole fact that he had done so told Chanyeol that there was something. There had to be a reason for Baekhyun to call him, so he had picked up. 

 

He was looking at the raindrop crashing on his tiny windowpane, when Baekhyun’s choked up voice started talking to him. The words froze his blood. 

 

His studio was a mess. Empty ramyeon cups on the floor, and bottles of cola and soda he hadn’t taken the time to put in the trash bag. He was ashamed of showing this side of him to Baekhyun, but when he heard it, when he heard the despair in the archer’s voice, his mind went on autopilot. Grabbing his umbrella, he sped down the stairs, as much as he could.

 

Baekhyun was there, under the rain, curled into a ball with his bag lying on the ground beside him, and Mongryeong forcing his way against Baekhyun's chest. His hair was drenched, bangs sticking to his forehead. He didn't even look sad, just tired. Drained. There was nothing in his eyes. When Chanyeol extended his umbrella to shield Baekhyun from the rain, the boy looked up, their gaze meeting. There, something appeared in Baekhyun's eyes, first, relief, like a soft flame, and then, worry, lips going between his lips.

 

"Welcome home." Chanyeol tried a smile, extending his hand towards Baekhyun.

 

The archer took it, getting up. He didn't let go of it as they went back into the building, Chanyeol had picked up the bag, meanwhile Baekhyun had Mongryeong's leash in his free hand. They walked hand in hand into his studio, and although it was dirty, the air stale and the floor dusty, Chanyeol had never felt so much at home. He hoped it was the same for Baekhyun. He really hoped.

 

"Come here." He softly asked, standing next to the shower.

 

Baekhyun closed the entrance door behind him, blinking in curiosity. "I'm sorry for intruding." He breathed as he walked closer to Chanyeol who had pulled a towel from a hidden drawer next to the shower which Baekhyun had never noticed was there.

 

"Don't be, really." Chanyeol smiled.

 

He gave the towel to Baekhyun, then looked down at the corgi who was nipping at the hem of his sweatpants.

 

"You can use it to dry Mongryeong." He explained as he went to fetch another towel in the drawer. 

 

Baekhyun hummed a thanks before getting on his knees and doing just as Chanyeol had said. Mongryeong got excited by this, confusing the drying session to a tummy rubbing session. He started rolling on his back, flapping his small paws in the air happily. It tore a smile from Baekhyun who got a little scared when something covered his face. A towel.

 

"Hold still." Chanyeol murmured behind him.

 

Baekhyun held his breath, unmoving. Chanyeol started rubbing his scalp with the towel, gently massaging it, taking his time to make sure that he was drying the hair as properly as possible. Even while doing this, he managed to be gentle and caring in his actions, even making sure he would rub appropriately the skin behind Baekhyun's ears.

 

At first, Baekhyun was holding his breath. But when his heart calmed down a bit, he smiled to himself, before he went back to drying Mongryeong who had been pawing the towel in the meantime, requesting for attention.

 

This was nice. So nice, Baekhyun thought. It was the first time someone ever did this for him. And he was glad it was Chanyeol, his first time. This thought made him blush a bit, but he didn't have the time to ponder over it when suddenly, his vision went dark.

 

Chanyeol had placed the towel on Baekhyun's head, covering his face and thus blinding him. Chuckling, he wrapped his arms around the archer who seemed a bit tense, but immediately relaxed when he realized what was happening.

 

“You're my prisoner.” Chanyeol chided playfully, swinging both their bodies from side to side gently. 

 

Baekhyun fitted exactly into Chanyeol’s embrace. It was nice. So nice. He placed a kiss on Baekhyun's nape. It was soft, slightly humid. The archer shivered in response, leaning a bit more against Chanyeol's chest.

 

"I missed you." Was breathed.

 

Who had admitted it first, neither was very sure. But it didn't matter to either. Chanyeol pulled the towel up just slightly, revealing the bottom of Baekhyun’s face. He let his lips caress the tip of the button nose, feeling the archer’s trembling breath against his chin, before he captured the lips, and kissed them softly.

 

He had missed this. He had missed Baekhyun so much, it was scary. It was scary, how fast he had gotten attached to the Fearless Moonbeam.

 

It was dangerous, too.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Baekhyun wouldn't stop apologizing for his presence, but Chanyeol wouldn't stop telling him it was fine. He really didn't mind. Having Baekhyun there, with him, in his arms, on his bed - it was like a dream come true. 

 

Outside, it was still raining, the rain hitting rhythmically against the windowpane. There was a certain relaxing melody to this. Baekhyun's head was resting on Chanyeol's arm as they were facing each other on the bed. Their legs were tangled - Chanyeol had taken off his prosthesis to make sure it wouldn't be uncomfortable for Baekhyun.

 

They weren't speaking. Baekhyun's fingers were playing with Chanyeol's locks. He seemed quite focused. With his brows very lightly furrowed, and his eyes not blinking much. Like this, with Baekhyun so close, he could see the boy’s freckles. All seven of them. His fingers were travelling on them, Baekhyun wasn't saying anything about it, letting Chanyeol explore his facial features, so the guitarist complied.

 

Baekhyun had such a soft skin. And a lot of tiny discrete moles too. The one above his lips, that Chanyeol liked the most. But there was also the one on his chin, and the one on his cheek. 

 

In french, his mother had told him once when he had tried to put concealer on the mole on his nose, moles were called  _ grain de beauté _ \- Beauty marks. Looking at Baekhyun like this, under the yellowish neon light of his studio, Chanyeol understood why the french language was said to be the most romantic. It had chosen the most accurate term for moles. Baekhyun was so beautiful like this. Chanyeol wanted to discover all the moles on his body, and give love to them all.

 

Baekhyun hadn't explained anything. He hadn't told him what had happened. But Chanyeol had a feeling the archer's mother wasn't completely devoid of any responsibility. It also made him understand Baekhyun more - what had happened the last time. Baekhyun's mother, above being strict, and not the best at showing her love for her child in a good light. She wasn't open-minded. It explained many things about Baekhyun's character, as if Chanyeol had found the main missing piece of a puzzle.

 

"You look like Pipi Longstockings like this." Baekhyun suddenly chuckled, pulling Chanyeol out of his mooning. 

 

His nose was scrunched in an adorable manner, it had Chanyeol blinded for a few seconds.

 

"What? Why?" He blinked in confusion, hands going for his hair with which Baekhyun had been playing for a while now. Then, he felt it, and realized what Baekhyun meant.

 

The little vixen had braided his hair. And said vixen was now pinning him to the bed gently, cautiously crawling on his lap, sitting on top of him and looking down at Chanyeol who was trying to catch his breath from the surprise attack. But then, Baekhyun lied down on him, burying his face in his neck and sneaking his hands under Chanyeol’s shoulders.

 

“I thought you were mad at me.” Chanyeol heard the voice whisper against his ear, it had him tremble. 

 

Exhaling deeply, he wrapped his arms around the body on his, hands roaming up the back, caressing skin as his fingers had daringly slipped themselves under the archer’s shirt, before arms hugged Baekhyun, tightly, so tightly. He then inhaled, breathing in. Breathing in Baekhyun.

 

“Why would I be mad at you?” He breathed in the soft hair - it was dry now. 

 

Chanyeol buried his lips in the archer’s locks, kissing the crown of his head. Chanyeol felt Baekhyun licking against the vein on his neck, like a small, attention seeking kitten.

 

“You stopped coming, that’s why.” The breath against his now humidified skin had Chanyeol shiver. He hugged Baekhyun a bit closer. “My mother was awful to you.”

 

“What she said wasn’t anything I had never heard.” Chanyeol smiled softly, trying to lock gazes with Baekhyun. 

 

He had to wait until the boy looked up, probably feeling the stare on him. Chanyeol playfully went to bite at Baekhyun’s nose, nipping the soft tip gently, making Baekhyun chuckle and wriggle on top of him. 

 

Baekhyun tried to retaliate, going to bite at the lobe of Chanyeol’s ear. At first, it had the guitarist giggle, but then he felt Baekhyun’s hand travel under his shirt, setting itself flat on his abdomen, while something humid and warm traveled along his helix, coming to play with his piercing, before it traveled languishly back down and lips caught his earlobe, sucking on it gently, moaning in his ear. He lost it there. Feeling something coil in his stomach, he let his nails dig into Baekhyun’s shoulder blades, his body writhing in pleasure. 

 

_ “You like that?” _ Baekhyun’s voice against his now humid ear was like the devil’s whisper of temptation. 

 

It had Chanyeol’s eyes roll back with pleasure. “Yes, please, yes.” 

 

Then, something licked at Chanyeol’s cheek. But it wasn’t the same kind of lick, and there was a bad breath that came with it. Something humid too was now poking his cheek. Opening his eyes and turning his head to the side, Chanyeol found himself face to face with a seemingly overjoyed Mongryeong who had brought with him a soft toy that looked quite familiar. 

 

“Holy mother of nuggets…” Chanyeol almost had a heart attack.

 

Baekhyun’s laugh was booming, coming from the heart, it sounded like the chant of an angel. He was hiding his mouth behind his hand, nose scrunched adorably again, and eyes now beautiful moon crescents. Chanyeol quickly forgot his disappointment at the sight. 

 

Baekhyun rolled off him, going back to lying beside him, tangling their legs and he used Chanyeol’s arm as a pillow. Mongryeong quickly came to impose himself between them though, making his way to lying just between the both of them, merrily going into a sploot position, smiling at them before he closed his eyes, satisfied of himself, and went to nap still hugging the corgi-shaped soft toy. 

 

Baekhyun looked up at Chanyeol, eyes beaming with amusement as he tried to hold his laugher.

 

“This lil dude here looks familiar.” He breathed, pointing to the toy that Mongryeong was hugging dearly.

 

It was the one Baekhyun had won for Chanyeol, when they had went together to the amusement park.

 

“His name is Gaeddong.” Chanyeol replied softly, pinching his lips into a thin line, hiding a smile. 

 

Baekhyun stared at him with wide eyes, seemingly shocked, before he burst out of laugher. “You didn’t seriously name him  _ dog poop _ ?”

  
  


Baekhyun’s laugher was filling his tiny messy room, and Chanyeol wouldn’t help but join in, hugging Baekhyun closer to himself, making Mongryong whine as he found himself squeezed between the two human bodies. 

 

Chanyeol felt it, the happiness. It was so strong, so beautiful, blooming in his chest - the sunflower was back. The sunflower was back because its source of light was there. Back into his life. Chanyeol could finally forget his worries. 

 

Outside, the rain was still crashing against the windowpane, but inside, it was warm. Chanyeol had Baekhyun in his bed. He was happy. So, so, so incredibly happy. Happier than he had been in such a long while.

 

“Thank you for coming, Hyun.” He whispered through the night.

 

He kissed the sleeping lips, letting himself finally succumb to Morpheus's embrace. Something he hadn’t done in days. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


There was something hauling. A lot of noise, distress. The darkness seemed thick, suffocatingly so. There was a cry in the background, something that resounded with atrocious pain and suffering. Then there was a loud muffled scream that felt like something being dropped on his chest.

 

Baekhyun’s eyes snapped open. It was dark. He could hear his own breathing, loud, panting. Mongryeong was there, nudging his snout into his side, making little saddened noises, nipping slightly at the hem of his shirt. Baekhyun groggily turned on his side to take the corgi into his arms and appease him, but then he realized Chanyeol wasn’t there. The place beside him was empty. The entry door was cracked open. And Mongryeong was still tugging at his shirt.

 

The loud breathings were still there, but they weren’t Baekhyun’s.

 

“What’s wrong lil dude?” He rubbed Mongryeong’s back. His heart was beating fast. Kicking the blanket away from his legs, he proceeded to get out of bed.

 

The corgi immediately leapt out of the bed - or more like stumbled on his short legs - and ran outside of the studio. Baekhyun followed with dread in his chest, hearing the panting sounds coming closer.

 

And it felt like a cold shower. The sight was frightening. It got Baekhyun by the lungs, like a strangling squeeze that kicked all the air out of his body.

 

Chanyeol was in the corridor, slumped on the ground with one leg propped against his chest while he was clutching onto the other one - the amputated one. He didn’t have his prosthesis on, stump hidden in his loose pant sleeve. 

 

Sweat was making his face glisten under the faint neon lights, his bangs humid and stuck to his skin which was terrifyingly pale and waxen, faintly yellow, shade of sickness. His eyes were glazed, his lids barely open and his lips were dry and chapped. A stifling sound was coming out of them, clogged breaths that sounded like an old car trying to come back to life. And suddenly, his face constricted into an expression of acute pain, and his back arched forward as he clutched onto his leg again, suppressing a cry, rocking back and forth trying to breathe deeply and calm down.

 

Mongryeong ran back to Chanyeol’s side, emitting little puppy cries as he curled up against the suffering boy. 

 

Meanwhile, Baekhyun felt as if his soul had dissociated from his body. He couldn't move, feet as if rooted to the ground, he was left there watching helplessly, feeling so lost in face of the amount of pain Chanyeol seemed to be going through. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to help him, take the pain away for him, free him of his suffering, but his body wasn’t obeying him. Shock had turned him into a rock while he was having an inner conflict about what to do. Even his voice wasn’t there - he couldn’t even utter his name. Chanyeol. He couldn’t even say it, from terror that was deeply anchored in his stomach. 

 

Chanyeol was hurting. Chanyeol was hurting so, so, so much. The Chanyeol who was usually all sunshine and smiles, always so happy and positive, who seemed to have no problems. This same Chanyeol was now lying on dirty ground in his building’s corridor, panting and sweating as he was trying not to cry at how much pain he was enduring.

 

“Painkillers…” 

 

Baekhyun gasped, finally feeling the air coming back into his body. He blinked, shaking his head. Chanyeol was trying to meet eyes with him, but he had a hard time keeping them open. Quickly, a bit shakily, Baekhyun got on his knees next to Chanyeol.

 

“What is it?” He breathed with panic laced to his voice. He wanted to cup Chanyeol's face, brush the sweat away and hug him until he would be fine, but he guessed this wouldn’t help at all. So he kept his hands to himself, curled into fists on his lap, waiting on edge for Chanyeol to be able to instruct him what to do.

 

“Drawer…” Chanyeol muttered under his shallow breath, blinking his eyes as if trying to keep them open. “Painkillers. Next to… the bed.”

 

Baekhyun didn’t even wait for Chanyeol to finish. He immediately bolted back into the studio. There, he felt disoriented for a span of some seconds, looking like a lost individual around himself as if he had never been in this apartment, until he remembered Chanyeol’s instruction. Falling to his knees, he pulled the tiny drawer next to the bed open, but he was left speechless when he saw the amount of medication, dozens of tablets and boxes of pills, some half empty, some still not started on. Not knowing which one Chanyeol needed, nor what exactly he had, Baekhyun grabbed different sorts of tablets, running back outside of the studio in a flash. 

 

Chanyeol was still there, leaning against the wall, apparently trying to regulate his breathing and calm down. Baekhyun set all the tablets beside him, muttering how he didn’t know which one Chanyeol needed. The latter simply closed his eyes as a sign of thank you, exhaling before he started looking through what had been brought. 

 

“Oh, water. You need water to drink!” Baekhyun realized. 

 

Faster than he had come, he ran back into the room to fetch a glass of water. He spilled some on his way back to Chanyeol, his hand wet when he handed him the glass. Chanyeol grabbed it with a shaky hand, gulping down some pills and messily shoving the water in his mouth, some dripping down his chin in the process. 

 

Baekhyun was standing a meter away, arms awkwardly hanging along his body, not knowing what to do with himself. Chanyeol was breathing deeply, some cavernous coughs sometimes coming to cut him, chest rumbling as if rocks were falling off a cliff. He closed his eyes, palms on his thighs and back still against the wall.

 

“Under my bed.” He inhaled shakily, frowning. “There’s a mirror.”

 

Baekhyun blinked, surprised.

 

“Could you bring it, please?”

 

And he did so. Walking back into the room, he got on all fours and started looking under the bed. Immediately, he found it. It was a long rectangular mirror with no frame. It looked cheap and wasn’t heavy. Baekhyun pulled it out from under the bed, and cautiously brought it to Chanyeol.

 

The guitarist simply nodded as a sign of gratitude, before setting the mirror between his legs, facing the healthy one, reflecting it symmetrically. Sighing profoundly, he started moving his foot, very slowly, in sync with his intake and outtakes of air.

 

Phantom pain. They would occur when the nerve endings at the site of amputation would send messages to the brain, tricking it into believing that the amputated limb was still there. Chanyeol was still experiencing them. They weren’t so common to him, but from time to time, they would prevent him from sleeping. Adding to that, he had chronic insomnia, which came by waves, mainly related to his stress levels. This was mirror therapy. The goal was to trick the brain into thinking that indeed, the limb was still present, and that it had the ability to control it. 

 

Baekhyun had heard of it, during a class. Of course. Of course Chanyeol would suffer from complications. Being an amputee wasn’t easy. However, looking at Chanyeol everyday, at the way he would even drive on Django under the rain as if it was nothing, Baekhyun would often forget about Chanyeol’s condition. He would often forget that, behind Chanyeol, there was a story, one that would probably be revealed as tragic. Chanyeol had lost a limb. This was never something easy, despite how he tried to act as if it was. Chanyeol had gone, and was apparently still going through very rough times. Baekhyun had never thought of that. 

 

He felt bad. He felt bad, for never seeing it. For always relying on Chanyeol. For running away from home and imposing all his problems on someone who probably had a very considerable amount of his own. He wished he could help Chanyeol too. He really wished so. But he didn’t know what to do.

 

“Banana milk.” He suddenly muttered to himself. “You love banana milk.”

 

He was about to rush back into the room to look into Chanyeol’s fridge for a bottle of banana milk, when something caught onto his ankle, and he found himself stopped in his tracks. Chanyeol’s hand.

 

_ “Don’t go.” _ Was breathed very faintly. 

 

The hand pulled at the hem of his sweatpants, just the way Mongryeong would nip at them when he wanted Baekhyun to follow him. So the archer followed. He slowly let his body sit down, next to Chanyeol.

 

“It’s nothing.” Chanyeol breathed as if he was trying to reassure Baekhyun - as if Baekhyun was the one hurting. “It happens sometimes, wakes me up in the middle of the night.” He shrugged, before he set the mirror on the ground, and slowly let his body lean against Baekhyun, face coming to nuzzle itself on the curve of the shoulder. “I’m sorry for waking you up and worrying you.”

 

Baekhyun was still, stiff, hands on his lap. He stared at the place. The place where Chanyeol’s leg was no more. And it left him with thousands of questions regarding the reason as to why. Why had Chanyeol lost his leg?  

 

And as he thought of it, he couldn’t help but envision Chanyeol, waking up in sweat from the pain, trying to hide himself from Baekhyun without waking him up, to relieve his pain in hidden, crawling on the ground, on all fours, without his prosthesis, so he could go and hide into the secludedness of the corridor, where Baekhyun wouldn’t see the pitiful him. Baekhyun couldn't help envision all of that, and it hurt him, to realize just how selfless Chanyeol was even in an intense moment of insufferable pain. 

  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  


Some days passed, like this, without Chanyeol telling Baekhyun the story behind  his amputation, nor Baekhyun telling Chanyeol the reason as to why he had ran away from home. It was winter vacation, so neither of them were very busy. Sometimes Chanyeol would head out, either for gigs, or to go to Big Cock Chicken to help out. Sometimes he would be gone for the day. Baekhyun would always stay home, curled in the fuzzy blanket when Chanyeol would leave in the morning, and still lying there when Chanyeol would come back. The only times he would go out would be when he would walk Mongryeong. For some reasons, he liked to do it the most at night, when less people were outside in the neighborhood. But even those walks, Baekhyun seemed a bit reluctant on doing, always having to muster up all the possible to accomplish only this simple task. His phone would ring too, a lot, but he would never pick up. Chanyeol had seen on the screen, it was Baekhyun’s mother most of the time, and at first there had been Jongdae too, now less since Chanyeol had told him that Baekhyun was staying at his place. 

 

It was like all life had left his body, and he would spend his days in the darkness of the room. Sometimes Chanyeol wondered if he even fed himself when he wasn’t there. It wasn’t out of goodwill though, Chanyeol knew it. There was just something bothering Baekhyun, something that had stolen the light away from him - that had clouded the moonbeam. He would make some efforts for Chanyeol, the latter could see them, and he hung to them. He liked the way Baekhyun would always come by his side, when he would be making dinner. Baekhyun would always come to try to help, cutting the onions or the vegetables when Chanyeol would be making the effort of cooking something, or just wrapping his arms around the taller’s waist and watch him as he would pop open the tupperwares full of his mother’s dishes to place them in the microwave, leaning his head against the shoulderblades and drawing random shapes on Chanyeol’s hips. He would always be the one washing the dishes too, telling Chanyeol that all he wished was to hear him play the guitar while he would do so - that it was the least he could to thank him for housing him.

 

They hadn’t talked about how long Baekhyun would stay. Chanyeol didn’t mind the presence though, it was nice to have someone. To be able to cuddle Baekhyun at nights, especially on sleepless nights when he could play with the archer’s locks and listen to the soothing rhythm of his breathing. The showers were nice, too. At first, Chanyeol had been a bit shy about them, the fact that there was no privacy, and that consequently, Baekhyun would have to look at his unsexy self as he would sit on the small plastic stool as he would shower himself and spend some considerate amount of time caring for his stump that needed particular attention during shower time. But very often, Baekhyun would join him during those times, taking pleasure in rubbing Chanyeol’s back, the the sound of the droplets falling against the tiles sometimes molding together with the sound of stifled moans of pleasure as hands and lips would roam and bliss would be found under the lukewarm water sprinkled on their naked bodies. 

 

Chanyeol didn’t mind that at all. All he regretted would be those times when Baekhyun wouldn’t be smiling, and would spend the day in bed, lifeless. Baekhyun hadn’t gone back to the archery room at all. With every passing day, the competition was getting closer. It was still a month away, but he had an inkling that Baekhyun was getting himself in further problems for trying to escape from them. Jongdae had told him too, how Coach Choi was growing very worried. He was even talking of replacing Baekhyun, maybe sending Daehyun in his stead as a representative if Baekhyun didn’t show up soon.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It was another cold night. Both of them couldn’t find sleep, and Mongryeong seemed quite awake too, so they had agreed on a past-midnight dog walk. Outside, some snow was fluttering from the sky. They were sharing the penguin gloves again, each wearing one with the thread connecting their hands together. 

 

Baekhyun holding Mongryeong’s leash as they walked down a slope. It was night, but city street lights were shining, replacing the long-hidden stars. They weren’t talking, simply walking, bumping shoulders playfully from time to time. Baekhyun was holding onto Chanyeol’s arm, just to make sure the latter wouldn’t slip because of the snow that was hiding some frozen bits of the pavement. 

 

Mongryeong happily waddled on the coat of snow, sometimes stopping to paw at it, marveling at the fact that it would leave traces. Sometimes, when his paws would get too cold, he would bark at the snow, and at some point the corgi just buried his face in the snow in an attempt of a fatal snout-attack, but he quickly pulled away. Some snow was stuck on his nose and in his nostrils, but he merrily kicked it away, his face radiating with happiness. 

 

Chanyeol decided to pick some snow up and gently sprinkled it over Mongryeong who in reaction started jumping about, trying to catch the snow in his mouth, but only managing to fall back on his rear, burying himself in the snow and unmoving, staying in a split position on his back, with a clueless expression. Chanyeol then proceeded to bury the corgi under the snow. Slowly, he brought more and more snow to make a corgi-mermaid out of snow. Mongryeong seemed delighted, observing all that was happening as Chanyeol was busy turning him into a mermaid. The scene tore a laugh from Baekhyun who secretly took his phone out, taking a picture of the scene. 

 

Looking at it stole a smile from him. Chanyeol was adorable, the way he tended to Mongryeong was like he really considered him as his own. And it figured to him that this was just so  _ Chanyeol _ . It was so Chanyeol, to be nice to everyone and everything, to take care of everything as if they were precious and had a deep meaning. Just how he had kept his Thumby bandage, pinned on his wall next to his medals. For Chanyeol, everything was worth of love. Even Baekhyun… 

 

“What are you watching on your phone that has you smiling like this?” Chanyeol cheekily grinned, still kneeling next to Mongryeong who now had a beautiful mermaid tail made out of snow and was wiggling his paws happily, as if he understood that mermaids had to swim. “Have you gotten a text from your crush?” Chanyeol suddenly grabbed the hem of Baekhyun's coat and pulled himself up, making the archer lose his balance as he was pulled forward in the process. However, Chanyeol wrapped his arms around him, catching him into a hug. “I didn't text you though.” 

 

“God, You're so dumb.” Baekhyun littered with a blush as he twisted his neck to look up at Chanyeol with a glare although he was being squeezed against the guitarist’s chest. 

 

“That's my name.” Chanyeol grinned before pressing a swift kiss on Baekhyun’s forehead and letting him go, spinning around to go free Mongryeong from his snow prison. 

 

Feeling embarrassed, Baekhyun found nothing better than making a small snowball and throwing it at Chanyeol's back, making the latter burst out of laugher. Quickly, he gathered some snow and retaliated. “I should show you my pitching skills!”

 

“That's right, you used to play baseball!” Baekhyun realized. “Okay, let's do this. Betting time!” He ran a bit farther away, setting some good distance between the two of them before he turned around and started swaying his rear at Chanyeol. “If you miss it from there, you’ll have to obey all my orders for the rest of the night.”

 

A competitive flame appeared in Chanyeol's eyes, and his lips turned into a smirk. “And if I get it?” 

 

This time, it was Baekhyun's turn to smirk. Surprising Chanyeol, he actually walked back to him, kneeling and setting his hands on Chanyeol's shoulders. As he leaned in, his breath caressed Chanyeol's earshell, and the words drew a shiver out of him. “I'll take care of you.”

 

Chanyeol looked at him with wide eyes, throat slightly dry. Baekhyun only winked at him before smirking and walking back to the place he was before, a few meters away from Chanyeol. He got back into position, wiggling his back view again. “Ready when you are!”

 

Submerged by a wave of competitiveness, Chanyeol gathered some snow, making a nice, round ball with it, although making sure he wouldn't press on it too much so it wouldn't harden and hurt Baekhyun. Then, all the while still seating on the cold snow-covered ground, he got into his best pitching stance. 

 

“Clench your teeth!” He warned, before with a swift movement of his arm, he threw the snowball in a perfect axis. 

 

It was perfect. So perfect. 

 

But then, out of nowhere, a wild corgi appeared and jumped in the air, catching the snowball with his teeth, the thing bursting into snow dust.

 

“No way…” Chanyeol felt his jaw dislocate itself from shock and disappointment. “There goes me ordering you to be my top tonight… “

 

Baekhyun's eyes almost popped out of their socket as he heard the words grumbled by a grumpy Chanyeol. He couldn't believe it. The guitarist was sitting in the snow, sulking at a corgi because he had missed his chance to get laid for the second time in a row because of said dog. It had Baekhyun fall into hilarity. Crashing to his knees, he let his body collapse into the snow as he hugged his stomach which was hurting from how much he was laughing. Soon, Chanyeol joined him too. It was infectious, the way Baekhyun laughed, laughed and laughed. 

 

It felt like it had been so long since Chanyeol had heard the sound of Baekhyun's laugh. It was definitely one of his favorite sound in the world. Letting his body roll in the snow, he joined Baekhyun who was lying there too, still hiccuping from his fit of laughter. 

 

“It's nice to see you smile.” Chanyeol panted, slightly breathless and still feeling high. 

 

Baekhyun turned his head to look at him, seemingly confused. 

 

“Why are you saying this?” He licked his lips, eyes showing that he was waiting for a serious answer in the way they shone. 

 

Chanyeol decided to take the plunge. “You haven’t been to the archery room for a while, now.” he breathed. Baekhyun's face hardened slightly, a veil coming to cover his face as the muscle in his jaw clenched. “Is something bothering you?” Chanyeol asked softly, gaze warm over Baekhyun, worried and caring. 

 

It had Baekhyun's throat tighten. He wasn't one to honestly talk about the things bothering him. But then, there was Chanyeol, with his angelic smile, and the way his gaze on him made him feel as if he was someone who deserved to be cared for too, who had the right of leaning on someone's shoulder too. 

 

“I…” Baekhyun tried, but his voice cracked because of all the emotions. He took a deep breath, waiting for his voice to come back and for his heart to calm down, before he started over. “I don’t know.” He pressed his lips in a thin line, inhaling through his nose as he turned to look up at the sky and hugged Mongryeong who was lying on top of him a but tighter. “I can’t find myself to hold my bow again. It’s almost as if I feel repulsed at the thought of it. As if archery had become a burden.” He shrugged before turning back to face Chanyeol and give him an empty smile. 

 

The latter looked he was giving all his attention to Baekhyun, and Baekhyun only. As if Baekhyun really mattered and as if his problems deserved to be listened to. 

 

“Do you think it’s because of the pressure?” He asked, turning on his side, to face Baekhyun. 

 

“I don’t know.” The archer smacked his lips, deep in his thoughts, before he sighed. 

 

He knew. In truth he knew. But it was such a vast and scary emotion, he had a hard time putting words on it. 

 

“I think… I can’t even remember why I started archery.” He covered his eyes with one arm, front teeth coming to bite at his lower lip. 

 

Chanyeol wanted to press his index on the abused lips, caress them, make them feel that they didn't deserve the harsh treatment. Maybe kiss them too, to remind their owner that it would all be fine, that he could speak freely - Chanyeol was there to drink his each and every word. 

 

“At some point, it just hit me. I realized I had no idea why even I was doing archery.” Baekhyun’s voice was like a continuous sigh, so full of despair, so eloquently frightened. “What was the point? It was like it had been inked into my mind, that I had to do archery every day.” He started explaining, pushing his arm aside, uncovering eyes that were filled with a sort of bitterness. “Because I had been doing it for years, for as long as I can remember it, every day. Like this, something that I used to enjoy had just become a habit. And it frightened me.” He smiled. Sadly. “It frightened me, because all my life, archery had been everything to me. I was archery, archery was me. That was it and nothing else.” He chuckled. Humorless. “And there I found myself being repulsed by archery. Repulsed by my own self. It was like I had realized that for years, I had been walking straight ahead thinking I knew where I was going, but in reality, I lost myself long ago. And now I am just, just so  _ lost _ .”

 

Chanyeol released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding in. Baekhyun sat up, startling Mongryeong who had started to doze off on top of him. With a small smile, he caressed the corgi to appease him, burying his nose in the dog's back, tickling him like this. Chanyeol said nothing. Silently he just wrapped his arms around Baekhyun's waist, engulfing the boy in a backhug, burying his face in his nape, and breathing in his scent. 

 

He loved him so  _ much _ . 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Should we go home?”

 

It was nice. It was nice, how both could call this little room of theirs, their home. Their little preserved haven. 

 

“Yeah, let's go home. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Baekhyun said nothing when Chanyeol proceeded to unzip his coat once they were inside of the studio. He stood there, watching the guitarist’s fingers pull on the zipper. It seemed to be like a kink of his, to take off Baekhyun’s coat every time they would come back from a walk, and to be honest, Baekhyun liked it quite a bit. 

 

“Oh.” Chanyeol blinked, voice in the low notes, it had something coil inside of Baekhyun. “You’re wearing my hoodie.” 

 

Baekhyun looked up from under his lashes, small smile on his lips. “I like having your smell on me.” He shrugged before kneeling to take Mongryeong’s leash off. The corgi immediately waddled to the corner where they had set some cushions for him to sleep on. Throwing himself at them, he let himself get into a sploot position, yawning before he nuzzled his whole bread-loaf like body in the middle of the cushions and closed his eyes. It tore a smile from both Chanyeol and Baekhyun.

 

“Your hair is slightly damp.” Baekhyun noticed as he took one of Chanyeol’s lock between his fingers and caught the small drop that was threatening to fall from it. 

 

Chanyeol just hummed. Wrapping his arms around Baekhyun’s waist, he pulled him closer, and gently, sat their bodies on the bed, with Baekhyun on his lap.

 

“What are you doing?” Baekhyun chuckled, slightly embarrassed. 

 

But Chanyeol only hid his face in Baekhyun chest, inhaling the scent of the hoodie. It smelled a bit of him, but mixed to it was also Baekhyun’s perfume. And it was perfect. So is Baekhyun. He rubbed the tip of his nose against the fabric, before tilting his chin up to kiss at Baekhyun’s sternum. It had the boy’s body stiffen on top of Chanyeol, before he exhaled shakily.

 

“I like it when you play with my hair like this.” Chanyeol hummed, whilst Baekhyun’s fingers were still tangled in his wet locks. “I like it a lot.” He kissed the underside of Baekhyun jaw and heard the soft sigh that escaped from his lips.

 

“I love your long hair.” Baekhyun admitted, pushing one lock behing Chanyeol’s ear, caressing on the way the piercing that was there. “It’s nice, to be able to thread my fingers through it.” 

 

He then pressed his lips against Chanyeol’s forehead, making the latter smile. Chanyeol tightened his hold around Baekhyun’s waist, hugging him tight, tight. He buried his face in the crook of the shoulder - it smelled of soft skin and body shampoo, Baekhyun had been using his baby lotion, it smelled so soft. On impulse, he dug his teeth lightly into the tender flesh, drawing another sigh from Baekhyun who bucked his hips against his, hugging his shoulders and muffling his voice in Chanyeol’s hair.

 

“Can you…” Chanyeol paused, letting his fingers graze under the hem on the hoodie, on the softness of Baekhyun’s hip. “Can you take care of me?” He whispered a tad shyly. 

 

He felt Baekhyun move on his lap, distancing himself a bit so he could plunge his gaze into Chanyeol. It was dark, and heavy with emotions. Chanyeol was holding his breath, but his hand was still tentatively snaking up Baekhyun's side, index blindly reaching for the small bud of Baekhyun’s nipple. It had the latter close his eyes and draw out a long breath as he let his head fall forward, pressing his forehead against Chanyeol’s.

 

“Okay.” He panted, nodding very slightly. “I’ll take care of you.” He said with more confidence, voice a bit laced, looking at Chanyeol again. 

 

The guitarist smiled, his fingers gently pinching Baekhyun’s nipple, making the boy tremble, and his fingers pull at Chanyeol's locks. Suddenly, Baekhyun gave them a harsher tug that had Chanyeol hiss, and he found himself pinned to the mattress, with Baekhyun looming above him, eyes hooded and cheeks pink.

 

“You’ll have to guide me though.” He breathed, a bit embarrassed. 

 

“In the drawer, there’s a small bottle and condoms.” Chanyeol tilted his chin towards the direction, and Baekhyun extended his arm to do as he was told. 

 

Chanyeol used the occasion to pull up at the hem of Baekhyun hoodie, revealing a taut abdomen and well defined chest, pink nipples slightly erect. Smiling he caught one swiftly between his lips, letting his tongue tease it. It had Baekhyun squirm above him.

 

“It tickles.” He chuckled, setting the bottle of lube and the condoms on the small bedside table. But his breath hitched in his throat when Chanyeol gave the bud a slight bite which had him arch his back, bucking his hips forward against Chanyeol’s. 

 

Setting his hand on Chanyeol’s chest, he pushed him to lie against the bed, and fisting his hand in Chanyeol’s hair, he let his tongue play with the piercing on Chanyeol’s ear, wiggling it with the tip of his tongue, before he licked a slow stripe up Chanyeol’s helix that had the boy’s body stiffen under him. Chanyeol’s hand had slipped to his back were they were drawing random shapes that had goosebumps appear on Baekhyun’s skin. Feeling hot, Baekhyun groaned, and sat up, hurriedly peeling his hoodie off and letting it fall beside them on the mattress, before he started tugging at Chanyeol’s demandingly, making little annoyed sounds. It had Chanyeol chuckle, and he quickly helped Baekhyun, pulling at the hem of his hoodie and letting the cloth slip to the floor. 

 

“Ah, it’s cold now.” Baekhyun whined. He pulled at the fuzzy blanket, setting it on his shoulders, shielding them both it the process and placing it as a cape. 

 

Chanyeol chuckled at the sight, Baekhyun was wrestling with the blanket, trying to let it stay put on his shoulders. His hand was in the meantime roaming up Baekhyun’s abdomen, enjoying how the muscles felt under his palm, how they would flex and unflex as Baekhyun moved and fought against the blanket. 

 

Chanyeol wanted to hide his face in this chiseled chest, hide his face and breathe in Baekhyun. So he did. Wrapping his arms around the boy’s face, he pulled him down, making Baekhyun crash above him. Quickly, he pulled at the blanket to hide both of their bodie under it, and he cuddled Baekhyun, hugging him against his chest. Baekhyun was like a kitten, nuzzling himself against Chanyeol’s half-naked body, his fingers were gently scratching down his skin, sometimes going to tease on his nipple. Chanyeol let his hands slide to Baekhyun’s buttocks, and he pulled the boy up, wriggling himself down a bit so that their mouths would be aligned. He smiled at the disoriented Baekhyun before he stole the lips with his, and kissed him slowly.

 

It was sloppy, just lips moving gently, tongues coming out to taste the other, Baekhyun’s drawing the contour of Chanyeol’s lips, before Chanyeol caught the playful tongue between his teeth and nipped at it, which had Baekhyun chuckle. The archer brought his index to Chanyeol’s lips. He couldn't exactly see as there was no light filtering under the fuzzy blanket, but he let his finger caress Chanyeol’s lower lip. It was so soft under his touch, it stirred something in Baekhyun chest. He wanted to kiss those lips, bite down at them, hard, so hard, maybe even until it would draw some blood out, or at least until it would have Chanyeol hard and crying. 

 

But suddenly, something cut his fantasies. There was something warm around his finger, humid, it tickled. Chanyeol was sucking at his index, slowly, tongue playing around with it. Baekhyun couldn’t look away from Chanyeol’s face. It was dark, but he could still define the edges of his features , and notice the lithe flame burning in his pupils - passion. It made him moan, a sound that came from somewhere deep in his throat. He pulled his finger out, feeling every muscle in his back trembling as they stiffened and his back arched, his hips snapping forward on their own. He felt Chanyeol’s fingers slip under the waistband of his skinny jeans with some difficulties, but then his nails clawed into the flesh of Baekhyun’s asscheeks, a bit harshly. It had Baekhyun gasp.

 

“Hell, baby bird.” He panted, trying to catch his breath, pressing kisses on Chanyeol’s closed eyelids. 

 

“Hyun.” Chanyeol whined, still massaging Baekhyun’s rear, pushing the boy against him, their legs tangled, and their cotched pressed against the other’s. 

 

They were both hard. He wrapped one leg around the back of Baekhyun’s thigh, getting a better angle as he pushed his hips up, rubbing against Baekhyun’s intimacy. 

 

Baekhyun seemed to get the message as he started moving his hips, slowly, up, down, up, down, up and down, gently, making sure that their intimacies were rubbing together, and that Chanyeol could feel the friction well. 

 

It was starting to get hot under the blanket, a bit unbreathable. Both were panting at this stage, Baekhyun’s body moving above Chanyeol’s, and making sure that he was kissing every inch of his face, neck, shoulders. Chanyeol’s nails were still dug into his flesh, and it felt so good. Their moans were making a sinful melody merged together, and it was riling them both up. Baekhyun’s voice was so low, and husky, Chanyeol was pretty certain he could get off only at this sound. And the curves of Baekhyun’s body, the line of his muscled, hunched shoulders, how his biceps flexed as he snapped his hips forward, how his abdomen muscles would show too, undulating at the motion. Chanyeol wanted to caress every bit of Baekhyun’s body. It was a masterpiece, and he wanted to worship it. 

 

“Wait.” He gasped as he felt a wave of electricity course up his spine and make his back arch. He pressed his palms against Baekhyun’s hips, trying to stop him.

 

Baekhyun stilled, panting. His forehead was slightly sweaty, bangs messy. His skin was warm too. 

 

“Baby?” He asked, his voice still rough, throaty. It made Chanyeol melt a bit, the way Baekhyun would purr ‘baby’ as he called him. He liked that. A lot.

 

Saying nothing, he tried to unbutton Baekhyun’s jeans. The latter watched him, still a bit breathless. He had sat up and the blanket had slid off his shoulders, abling Chanyeol to get a better view of his body. Outside, the rain was still pouring. It felt nice, cozy. He pulled at the zipper, Baekhyun doing nothing, his hands caressing Chanyeol’s thighs, up, down, up. So slowly, so lovingly. 

 

Baekhyun had to help him to peel the skinny jeans off, chuckling at how Chanyeol was struggling.

 

“You’re no fun, laughing at me.” Chanyeol pouted. Baekhyun just grinned, like a flash pressing a peck on his lips before he got up on the bed, hovering above Chanyeol as he took off his jeans, staying in his boxers, hard on clearly showing.

 

Chanyeol muttered something under his breath, like a curse word, as he sat up, his hands setting themselves on Baekhyun’s ankles, before travelling up the shins, finding their way to the supple thighs. They were so soft, firm, but not too much, there was still a bit of fat on them that felt so good when you squeezed them. Chanyeol pulled on them, forcing an almost stumbling Baekhyun who was still standing on the mattress forward, and he nuzzled his face against the clothed hard on, rubbing his nose against it, breathing in. Baekhyun instinctively brought his hands to Chanyeol’s hair, fingers getting lost in the mane as he tugged at it, throwing his head back as his thighs trembled. 

 

Massaging the back of Baekhyun’s thighs, Chanyeol kept rubbing his nose and lips against the tent, sometimes peppering kisses on it. He could feel Baekhyun’s knees tremble, and the way he was tugging at his hair was sign enough that he was slowly losing himself in the pleasure. 

 

With the tips of his thumb that he slipped under the briefs, he tugged at the undergarment, making it fall to Baekhyun knees, the boy gasping as cold air enveloped his warm throbbing hardness. Chanyeol smiled, before peppering kisses on  the inside of Baekhyun’s thigh. It was slightly damp with perspiration too. He licked a strip up, before coming to nip at the very tender skin. Baekhyun almost collapsed, his knees trembling, but he caught himself onto Chanyeol’s locks, fisting them as he cursed. 

 

Chanyeol tried to get in a slightly better sitting position, before he let his tongue out, poking the tip of Baekhyun’s member. It drew a cry from Baekhyun who shivered again. The mattress was soft, so he wasn’t very stable, and all the stimulation was making his body grow limp. His hold on Chanyeol’s hair hurt, but it was also so arousing, like Chanyeol could feel how Baekhyun’s pleasure was growing by the way he tugged at his hair. 

 

Ceasing all kinds of teasing, he took Baekhyun in his mouth, bobbing his head forward. Baekhyun cried out loud, his knee knocking Chanyeol’s shoulder. On impulse, he bucked his hips forward, and Chanyeol choked a bit, his throat tightening around the shaft. He chuckled, drawing back a bit, and it had Baekhyun whine in pleasure. 

 

“Oh.” Baekhyun’s voice had slightly gotten high pitched. 

 

He let his fingers comb through Chanyeol’s hair as he looked down, while Chanyeol tried to keep eye contact with him as he moved his head slowly, back and forth, back and forth. 

 

The sounds were lewd, wet, a bit dirty. But Baekhyun liked this kind of dirt. The sinful one that made his blood hot and his veins buzzing. He had one hand fisted in Chanyeol’s hair, the other caressing the boy’s face as he sucked him. Baekhyun was trying to inhale through his nose - Chanyeol’s eyes were so dark, his cheeks slightly flushed, warm under his touch, lips swollen and stretched. He was doing so well, making sure that Baekhyun was getting pleasure from it, and his eyes were so full of words Baekhyun were scared of reading them all, from how heartfelt they were. 

 

His toes started curling in delight, shoulder shuddering. He gave a tug on Chanyeol’s hair, giving up fighting the weakness in his knees, he collapsed on them, and without giving the time for Chanyeol to process what was happening, he pinned him to the mattress, pushing on his shoulders and crawling on top of him as he caught his lips with his. Chanyeol hissed as Baekhyun bit down on the lower one. Their tongue met. It was a mess, but Baekhyun was a mess, and Chanyeol was no less so. Their lips were wet, slick, swollen, as both panted hard into the other’s mouth, hands fighting to caress more skin possible. 

 

Baekhyun was pulling at the waistband of Chanyeol’s sweatpants. The latter helped him, raising his hips, they peeled the cloth off. It got stuck a bit in the foot of the prosthesis but Chanyeol kicked it away. 

 

“Gosh, how much I love your legs.” Baekhyun moaned as he set himself between them. 

 

They were slender and had this sort of bow shape at the knee level. Pearl white and hairless, they looked so soft, thighs jiggling slightly when Chanyeol would move his legs, or when Baekhyun would push at the inside of his knees to part them better. Letting his finger slide down the tattoo, they reached the prosthesis. Chanyeol was looking at him with his lips sealed, looking slightly shy.

 

“Can I, baby?” 

 

The guitarist nodded very faintly, looking away as he was embarrassed. Baekhyun kissed his knee, whispering words of how it was alright, and how much he liked Chanyeol’s body. He pressed on the button of the prosthesis, the thing making a small sound, like a puff of air being let out and then it slid of, revealing the stump which was in a sort of elastic kind of material. His eyes darted to Chanyeol’s, silently asking him what he was supposed to do. Chanyeol did it himself, rolling the liner off, revealing his stump. 

 

Baekhyun said nothing, he stared at it for a while. Then, he leaned in, and gave it a kitten lick. Kisses. Kisses up the stump, up the thigh, and then he crawled up Chanyeol’s body and kissed him, his lips, his nose, eyelids. Whispering  _ ‘thank you, thank you, baby.’ _

 

Chanyeol’s heart squeezed, feeling his eyes sting. Trying to push the feeling away, he blindly grabbed the bottle of lube and the condom, pressing them against Baekhyun’s side, making the latter shiver as it was cold. He chuckled when he saw what it was. The lube was strawberry flavored. Chanyeol was adorable like this, so it didn’t surprise him. 

 

The guitarist seized Baekhyun’s hand gently, eyes looking for his.

 

“We’re doing this?” His voice was a bit laced, Baekhyun pursed his lips into a thin line. Then he nodded, and buried his face in Chanyeol’s shoulder, biting down at it from embarrassment. It had Chanyeol chuckle, and it made him a bit more confident. Baekhyun was shy, embarrassed ad on edge, just as him. Both were a bit apprehensive about this, so it was alright. They were together, so it would be alright. They were both there to support and encourage each other, make the other feel like this, all was okay. 

 

He took Baekhyun’s hand, and brought it to his lips, kissing the inside of his wrists, just where the veins were. He felt Baekhyun shiver. With his thumb, he popped the lid open. 

 

“You know how it works, or should I show you?”

 

Baekhyun licked his lips, before biting on the lower one. “Show me, please.” 

 

Chanyeol nodded, pecking the tip of his nose, before he squeezed some of the lube onto his palm.  It was pink and shiny, and there was quite a sweet smell to it. 

 

“You need to prep thoroughly, so it wouldn’t hurt.” Chanyeol explained. He laid down on the bed, while Baekhyun remained seated, watching him with his throat slightly dry. Chanyeol looked shy, but his gaze was still quite ravishing - hot and charming. He started by touching himself with his clean hand, palming himself through his briefs. Baekhyun gulped, his hand caressing Chanyeol’s leg, up and down, gently stroking it. The taller one’s eyes were turning a bit hooded and veiled with swirling emotions as his lips parted, letting out a shivering sigh. 

 

“Wait.” Baekhyun caught Chanyeol’s wrist, stopping him from touching himself. 

 

Not saying anything, he pulled at Chanyeol’s briefs, revealing the hard on that went to weigh against Chanyeol's abdomen, red and swollen. He peeled the underwear completely, tossing them aside, before he leaned in and pressed a soft peck against the tip of Chanyeol’s member. Pressing his palms under his thighs, Baekhyun pushed Chanyeol’s legs up, propping them against the boy’s chest, exposing him better. He saw that Chanyeol was slightly embarrassed, but he reassured him with a kiss on the inside of his shin, then thigh, before smiling down at him. And then he leaned in, and with his tongue, he brought his tongue to Chanyeol's rim, feeling the entrance throb as he grazed it, and Chanyeol gasp, his back arching, as Baekhyun pushed his tongue against the rim of muscles, humming slightly. It was hit, Baekhyun was slow and gentle and Chanyeol could feel every smallest sensation procured by the stimulation, it had his head buzz and his sight turn red. Then, Baekhyun’s tongue travelled north, and it painted a patch of saliva up his undershaft, finishing by a smack of his lips around the crown of his member. Chanyeol’s leg twitched in reaction, kicking Baekhyun’s shoulder as he was trying to grasp for air. 

 

“Now you can go, I’m watching.” Baekhyun pursed his lips into a teasing smile that gave Chanyeol the desire to kiss away with his own. He grabbed Baekhyun by the chin, slightly violent, surprising the other boy, but he immediately made up for the pain as he crashed their lips together and with a kiss, left Baekhyun breathless.

 

“Now we’re even.” He grinned before he positioned his legs appropriately, parting them for Baekhyun to admire. 

 

Slowly, he brought his fingers to his entrance, teasing it with his lubed finger and progressively, he let his finger slip in. Baekhyun was kissing Chanyeol’s legs, leaving some marks on them as he sucked on the skin and bit at it, when Chanyeol was already three fingers in. He pulled them out, his hole clenching around nothing, lube making it glimmer under the light. 

 

Baekhyun was distracted from his acts of worshipping for Chanyeol’s legs when the latter pulled at his arm, suddenly wrapping himself around Baekhyun’s waist and nuzzling him into a hug. Baekhyun quickly grabbed the fuzzy blanket, covering both their naked bodies as they squirmed a bit, tangling their legs together and cuddling, Chanyeol playfully smacking kisses against Baekhyun’s shoulders, neck and chest, making him squirm and giggle. Baekhyun counterattacked by biting down on Chanyeol’s shoulder. The latter whine, turning his back to Baekhyun but pulling on his arm so that the archer would be spooning him.

 

“You’re like a kitten.” Chanyeol playfully slapped his rear, and it had Baekhyun buck his hips forward against Chanyeol’s buttocks, making the latter let out a moan. “Wait.” He suddenly grabbed Baekhyun’s asscheek, massaging it as he started rubbing his buttocks against Baekhyun’s hardness.

 

The friction was bringing some small pants from Baekhyun’s lips as he buried them in Chanyeol’s nape, trying not to show how aroused he was getting. Blinking his eyes, he tried to regain some composure. He slid his leg between Chanyeol’s, setting one on top of his to get a good angle.

 

“Should I take care of you now?” He asked with a purr against Chanyeol’s ear, his palm caressing the warm shoulder blade. 

 

He heard Chanyeol emmit a small hum in reply, nodding his head, and it made him smile. Baekhyun placed a swift peck on the latter’s nape. The wind was violently hitting against the windowpane, when Baekhyun used one hand to part Chanyeol’s buttcheeks, and the other to guide his member to Chanyeol’s entrance. It took some time for his shaft to enter, the ring of muscles still quite tight. He kept peppering kisses against Chanyeol’s nape and trapezium, trying to sooth him.

 

At some point, he heard Chanyeol cry out shakily when he finally managed to slide inside of him, his chest pressed against the tall and warm back. Baekhyun loosely wrapped his arm around Chanyeol’s hips, letting his palm rest on his abdomen, while his other arm served as a pillow for Chanyeol. He was breathing hardly. Chanyeol felt so nice around him, so tight, it was so intimate. He waited a bit for Chanyeol to adapt to his size. Meanwhile, the guitarist took his hand in his, the one by his head, and he threaded their fingers.

 

Baekhyun tried moving his hips forwards slightly, tentatively, but it had Chanyeol’s stomach flex and his body shiver. He felt Chanyeol clench around him, and it drew a loud moan from him that he tried to muffle into Chanyeol’s hair again.

_ “Ah…”  _

 

He stilled, kissing Chanyeol’s spine softly, then blowing some air on the skin, making the other boy purr in satisfaction. 

 

“Are you okay?” He heard Chanyeol ask before he felt his lip against his arm, nipping at the flesh gently. 

 

“Yeah…” Baekhyun shook his head, moving his legs a bit to change the angle of their bodies, and deepen the penetration, making Chanyeol purr. “Yeah…” He gasped, breathless. “You're just… So tight.” Baekhyun leaned his head against Chanyeol’s nape, and let his hand travel up, setting itself on the boy’s chest, right above the heart.  “It feels nice.” He chuckled, still slightly embarrassed. “And you, are you okay?”

 

He heard Chanyeol inhale. “Yeah. Just, wait a bit. You're quite thick…”

 

They both chuckled and Baekhyun pressed another kiss on the side of Chanyeol’s neck.

 

“’Kay.” Baekhyun exhaled with a smile as he let his hand roam on the warm and soft body which was lying in his embrace, going to caress Chanyeol's biceps, then nipple. 

 

It was incredible. It hit him all of sudden, the realization. This, what they were sharing right now, was so, so intimate. So precious. A moment Baekhyun wanted to engrave in every fiber of his skin, inked on the back of his eyelids, so he would remember how he had felt, years from now, at this exact moment, this exact moment when he had finally dared doing what  _ he  _ desired - when he had finally done something for himself, because  _ he _ wanted it and  _ he _ liked it. Because he liked -  _ loved _ \- Chanyeol, and he wanted to remember this love, how happy he had felt at this moment.

 

He didn’t want for this moment to be rushed. He wanted to take things slowly. As he moved his body, waving his hips, pelvis coming to slap Chanyeol’s buttocks, he did it sweetly, wanting to be sure that everything would be felt to the maximum, his cock sliding into Chanyeol, grazing at his walls, the way Chanyeol would clutch onto his hands, trembling, and the gasping sighs he would release from his lips as Baekhyun reached his tender spot, the way he groaned when Baekhyun brought his hand to his member, gently stroking him, accompanying him to more beautiful heights tasting of pleasure and ravishment, and the way he cried Baekhyun’s name.

 

Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun Baekhyun  _ Baekhyun- _

 

It was beautiful because, while Baekhyun had fought away his fears and apprehensions and embraced his true desires which he had always considered wrong, Chanyeol had let his barriers down, showing what he disliked the most about himself, his most vulnerable state, and in this state of utter nudity, vulnerability, they had found each other, tasted, discovered, stroked and loved each other despite how wrecked and imperfect the truth they revealed was. 

 

It was beautiful, when Chanyeol came into Baekhyun’s hand while gasping his name, teeth dug into his arms, how his body trembled, succumbing to the rush of the orgasm as Baekhyun chanted his name out of an overwhelming and devastating rush of mixed emotions that he was terrified of even thinking the name of. He chanted chanted chanted.

 

Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol Chanyeol  _ Chanyeol... _

 

Baekhyun came when Chanyeol turned around, caging him in his embrace and pressed their lips together, cum-stained hand on his thigh pulling him closer while mouth whispering his name as Chanyeol licked for entrance and their tongues met, warm, demanding and craving the other. Baekhyun moaned into Chanyeol’s mouth, a tear slipping out of his right eye, a choked sob merged into a pleased gasp of relief. 

 

He had done it. He had sinned in the eyes of the world and his God, but he felt so blessed. Free.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ I love you.  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Outside, the rain had turned into snow as the temperature had dropped. It was a blizzard, the sky white and hurling. Beside him, against his ear, were the soft sound of snores, and against his shoulder were the puffs of air that escaped as Baekhyun dreamed peacefully, still wrapped in Chanyeol’s limbs, their naked body like one under the fuzzy blanket. 

 

Chanyeol was admiring him, eyes travelling on the facial features he liked so much, staring at the freckles. One, he realised, was heart-shaped. He gave it a soft kiss that had Baekhyun mumble in his slumber, nose scrunching. 

 

Baekhyun was so breathtaking, Chanyeol marvelled. He was what Chanyeol had been dreaming of for months now, and it felt incredible to have him here, in his arms, in his heart. He felt so lucky to have fallen in love with Byun Baekhyun. But it hurt. It hurt too, and he was trying so hard. He was trying so hard not to cry as he pressed his forehead against Baekhyun’s trying to fight back the tears that were threatening to fall.

 

It was so hard not to break down, when you have the love of your life in your arms, but your body just couldn’t  _ feel _ him. 

 

Chanyeol stared at his useless hand which was resting on Baekhyun shoulder. Nothing. He felt nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing. 

 

He wanted to blame his God and hate him with all his soul for giving him such a wicked, cruel fate.

  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  


The sound of water falling in the sink was partially covering the one of the guitar notes that were struggling to fill the air. Baekhyun was washing the dishes, while Chanyeol was trying to play a piece on the guitar, however there was something odd. The way he was strumming them, it lacked the usual delicacy and passion. There was something harsh and something angry about the notes that were being produced. There were a lot of missed notes too, and the whole rhythm was basically wrong, even Baekhyun who was no musician could tell. 

 

Somehow, it matched with the strange mood that had been floating in the air since they had woken up. For once, Chanyeol had been the last to wake up, groaning and whining, not wanting to wake up and hiding himself under the blanket. It was odd, but Baekhyun thought he was maybe just tired because of last night's events. Moreover, Baekhyun was in a pretty decent mood, still feeling like he was walking on clouds. Since it seemed Chanyeol wouldn't wake up to cook, he thought that he could let the boy sleep in, he would cook for them. However, even during their lunch, Chanyeol barely ate. He kept dropping his chopsticks, and muttering things under his breath. Baekhyun felt a bit distanced - Chanyeol barely talked to him. 

 

It had questions swirl in his mind, among dark thoughts. The plugging on the guitar was only enhancing his unease. 

 

Placing his now dried glass on the shelf, Baekhyun turned around to look at Chanyeol. There was a frown between his brows, and his lips had disappeared into a white line. He seemed frustrated, very much so. 

 

“Are you drunk?” Baekhyun asked as he tilted his head, trying to tease Chanyeol in hopes it would ease the apparent tension a bit. “You sound funny.”

 

Chanyeol glanced up, but the glare he gave Baekhyun was so cold, it had the latter feel like his blood had dropped to his feet, and a shiver coursed up his spine in a displeasing way. 

 

“Very funny.” Chanyeol spat, rolling his eyes. He tried to strum on the guitar again, but his fingers were all jittery, he could barely touch the strings appropriately. “Fuck this!”

 

Baekhyun’s eyes widened in shock. Chanyeol never cursed. Never. 

 

The guitarist looked up again, and there was fire in his eyes. Baekhyun felt his breath hitch in his throat. 

 

“Why are you looking at me like this?” He asked tentatively, a bit on the defensive. Chanyeol placed the guitar on the ground, more harshly than he was supposed to, and the instrument resounded in a dramatic cry of strings and empty wood that oddly fitted the tense atmosphere. “Have I done something wrong?”

 

“You don’t understand.” Chanyeol rolled his eyes again, and it had annoyed Baekhyun. 

 

“What don’t I understand?” He tilted his chin up, trying to keep his voice calm and not turn this into a heated conversation, but he didn’t appreciate the way Chanyeol seemed to be basically pouring his moodiness on him. 

 

He was there if Chanyeol needed someone to lean on, but he had enough of being people’s punching ball when their frustration level wasn’t on point. He hadn’t ran away from his mother’s house to go through the same thing here. 

 

“If you have something you want to say, something bothering you, you should just tell me. I’m always listening to you. But don’t snap at me for no reason.” Baekhyun grunted, trying very hard not to let his frustration show in his tone, but it was hard. 

 

“How could I?!” Chanyeol got up the bed very suddenly, startling Baekhyun who took a step back, pressing himself against the counter. “How could I tell you, when all you do is mop around the whole day, every day, sulking over your misfortunes and completely overlooking the fact that others around you have it hard too?!” 

 

It hurt. Like a punch in his gut that left him breathless, it hurt. Baekhyun's eyes were turning wider and wider as the words spluttered from Chanyeol's lips. They were mean. They were harsh. They hurt so much he felt his eyes sting and his body tremble in rage and indignation. 

 

“You’re completely self-centered, you’re such an egoistic person! You say you’re there to listen, but you can’t hear what is being told to you! So what is the point?!” Chanyeol shouted at him, violently so. His voice was bouncing against the walls, and they made Baekhyun feel as if a cage had been built around him, a cage that kept shrinking, trying to make him implode. He felt his breath thin as the seconds passed, oxygen slowly leaving his lungs and having a hard time coming back.

 

“You only care about yourself and let yourself wallow in your problems like a loser instead of facing things.” Chanyeol seemed so pissed. His face was red and his voice was loud. “Life is hard, Baekhyun. It’s so fucking hard to go through every day. But we’re all doing it. We’re all doing it, but here you are, crying over silly little things every day!”

 

This was the last punch in Baekhyun's stomach. He knew. He knew there was some truth to Chanyeol's words. But listening to him, one would think that Baekhyun was purposefully a bad person. It wasn't the case though, it really wasn't. 

 

His body was shaking so violently, and he could feel his head spin, dark dots slowly coming to cover his vision. But he breathed deeply. Inhaled. Exhaled. Tried to focus on keeping his respiration steady. It felt so terrible, and he wanted to break down and cry. Chanyeol's words hurt so much, not because they were harsh, but because they came from him. They came from the person Baekhyun felt like he could finally lean on. As soon as he had found a stable pillar in his life, this one had apparently realized just how  heavy of a burden Baekhyun was, and had started crumbling. 

Betrayal hurt. Baekhyun felt so, so profoundly betrayed. 

 

“Chanyeol…” Yet, he tried to take a small step toward the guitarist. 

 

At first he was hesitant, seeing how much Chanyeol was trembling from anger. But then their eyes met, and he could see it. He could see the regret in Chanyeol's eyes. How much hurt, even for him, to say those words to Baekhyun. He was angry, and he probably had reasons to be, unsaid reasons. Baekhyun was hurt, but he had hurt Chanyeol too in the past. Many times. 

 

They said communication was the key in every relationship. And he knew. Deep down, he knew that Chanyeol didn't really mean it. That he was just having a hard time, and it was Baekhyun who was taking the blow. 

 

So he braced himself. He would take it for Chanyeol. He absolutely would, because he owed it to him he owed Chanyeol this, and so, so much more. 

 

Truth hurt, and this was the truth Baekhyun had to accept. So he set his hands on Chanyeol's biceps, trying to soothe him a bit by squeezing them, telling him he was there. That he wouldn't leave Chanyeol's side just because the latter, for whatever reason, was having a hard time. 

 

Baekhyun was there, too. 

 

“Tell me what's wrong, Yeol.” He caressed his arm, trying to calm him down, and himself too. 

 

Yeol fell seated on the mattress, hands clutching onto the hem of Baekhyun's shirt. He pressed his face against the latter's stomach, breathing heavily. He was angry, so angry. 

 

Baekhyun had come at a wrong time, and seeing him everyday made Chanyeol both so happy and so anxious. He wanted to tell him. He really wanted to. But he was so terrified. 

 

“I lost my leg to cancer, Baekhyun.”

 

It had been said as a whisper. Baekhyun felt something break inside of him. Like a very, very small part of his heart had detached itself from the rest, falling to the ground and breaking into thousand little pieces. Chanyeol was there, trembling out of rage against him, and Baekhyun could feel his rage, he could understand it too. It had been like a blow that had his knees buckle, and he could barely stand anymore, feeling himself crumbling along with Chanyeol. 

 

“Here. That’s the problem… It spells Osteosarcoma. That’s the name of my problem.” Chanyeol was holding onto Baekhyun's shirt so tight, it was hurting Baekhyun’s nape, but he said nothing. 

 

Biting down on his lip, the archer was trying to hold it in. But he hated it. He hated this reality. He hated to imagine that Chanyeol had to go through all of this. 

 

Life was so incredibly unfair. And if it was something he had known for a long time, hearing Chanyeol's story, seeing Chanyeol like this, remembering how he had broken down a few days ago, crying, crying in front of Baekhyun, it had the latter realize that some people had it even worse than him. Some people who made it a point to smile every day and to bring happiness to others. 

 

Chanyeol was just such, such a beautiful soul. 

 

“My health is shit. I lost my leg just when I got scouted to be on a professional baseball team. So I lost my dream along with it.” Chanyeol looked up with eyes shining of tears not spilled, it stroke Baekhyun so hard in the heart. He wanted to hug him. Hug him so tight. “And even now. Even today, when I try to push through it, to be happy, there are reminders everywhere that I once lost what mattered the most to me, and that along with it I lost myself! Now I’m just a crippled amputee whose lungs are also starting to give out, and who probably won’t be able to do anything with his life, just as your generous mother, and most of the people around, keep reminding him.” Chanyeol spat with venomous sarcasm and spite in his tone, and so much, so much anger. “That’s what is wrong! And never, never have you cared enough to realize that all this was wrong. That I wasn’t fine, but I was trying to be. That I am trying every day to be fine just so the people I care about wouldn’t worry for me.” Chanyeol accused him. 

 

But with the way his lips contorted and how he looked down, it was obvious that he immediately regretted his words. Baekhyun didn't hold them against him. It hurt, but there was some truth in them, and Baekhyun had to accept it, no matter how much it hurt. 

 

“Hey, baby boy.” he called in a sigh. 

 

Cupping Chanyeol's cheeks, he smiled down at him, before he proceeded to sit on the guitarist’s lap, facing him. Gently, he caressed the soft cheeks, peppering kisses on Chanyeol's humid eyelids. He heard him, how broken the breath he exhaled was. But Baekhyun was there, he reminded him. He kissed down on his warm cheekbones, and on the tip of his nose. 

 

He liked Chanyeol's nose so much, it was cute, so round with the little mole on it. Baekhyun rubbed their noses together, his hands sliding to Chanyeol's chest, before his lips followed down and lingered just above Chanyeol's. The latter let out a choked exhale, parting his lips, waiting like a burning fire untamable for Baekhyun to set his lips on his and kiss him. And Baekhyun didn't make him wait too long. Letting his fingers get lost in Chanyeol's mane, he pulled on them a bit, forcing Chanyeol to lean his head back. Swiftly, Baekhyun licked a stripe up Chanyeol's neck, feeling the Adam’s apple bob from the stimulation, and there he caught the tender lips, biting down gently on the lower one before he let their lips dance in tranquility, without rush, every move deep and passionate. He could feel Chanyeol's messy breathing on him, his emotions still boiling and confused. Baekhyun massaged his scalp gently, tilting his own head as he wiggled his rear a bit to get closer to Chanyeol, straddling him. 

 

Suddenly, hands came on his chest, stopping him. “Don't give me pity sex.” Chanyeol sighed, but his lips were still puckered and swollen in a manner that was screaming, begging for more. 

 

Baekhyun licked a stripe of saliva along Chanyeol's jaw, coming to nip at Chanyeol's earlobes, immediately making the boy shudder. “It's not pity sex, it's an apology make out.” He breathed into Chanyeol's ear, and it was all he needed to do to make the taller one comply. 

 

Chanyeol let his hands cup the small of Baekhyun's back, pulling him in closer while he had his head leaned back, Baekhyun busying himself to leave marks on the side of his neck. One of his hands went to Baekhyun's hair in which his fingers got tangled in as he went for the boy’s lips. 

 

Like this, they kissed for a long while, tongues meeting and chasing each other, sometimes just lips moving softly, tender words whispered as hands went to caress and stroke, while their breath formed one, and their bodies in their embrace did too. Moments of shared emotions that words were too shy to describe. 

 

Then, Chanyeol felt fingers loop themselves under his waistband, tugging at the elastic, making a small slapping sound. 

 

“Please.” Baekhyun requested, breathing in Chanyeol's scent with his face buried in his shoulder. “Can you take them off?” He tugged at the sweatpants again and felt Chanyeol move a bit under him. 

 

“I…” Chanyeol sounded hesitant. Baekhyun had an idea as to why. Chanyeol still wasn't confident about showing his legs to him. 

 

“Please, Yeol. I want to please you.”

 

This had the guitarist’s breath get caught in his throat. Baekhyun heard him whisper a tiny ‘okay’ and that was enough for him to get down from Chanyeol's lap and peck his nose before he smiled at the boy and proceeded to pull at the waistband of the sweatpants. Chanyeol helped him, and the cloth fell to his ankle, revealing soft looking legs, and the black ink that swiveled on the skin in artistic curves and lines that had Baekhyun’s pupils dilate at the sight. 

 

Getting on his knees between Chanyeol's legs, he kissed the inside of the thigh, before letting his tongue slowly draw along the lines of the tattoo. Meanwhile, Chanyeol couldn't look away from the sinful sight that was Byun Baekhyun, with his pink tongue, redrawing the nine-tailed fox, eyes unhooked and passionate. Chanyeol was hard, his shaft weighing against Baekhyun's shoulder, and this mere contact was making him tremble with desire - covetousness for more. 

 

“What's its name?” Baekhyun asked in a breathy voice as he offered a smile to Chanyeol, hand resting on the now humid thigh. 

 

“It has none.” Chanyeol furrowed an eyebrow, having some troubles not to speak in a slurred speech from how on edge he was. 

 

“Yeah?” Baekhyun tilted his head, his breath fanning over the now sensible skin on which goosebumps appeared because of the contrast in temperatures. “Then maybe I should give it a name.” His canine teeth was revealed in the way he smiled so playfully. Chanyeol couldn’t look away from him, couldn't close his lips, starved on desire. 

 

“Baekhyun.” Chanyeol growled, having a hard time hiding how needy he was getting. He heard Baekhyun chuckle, and that made him growl again in frustration. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, holding himself back from just  _ finally _ touching himself. 

 

But Baekhyun's finger, the way it traveled on his thigh, so close, but not  _ there _ \- it was truly maddening. 

 

“Suzanne.” He whispered. Chanyeol frowned at him, almost cursing. His member was rubbing slightly against Baekhyun shoulder, and it just made him crave for more. For a real release. “Should we call it Suzanne?”

 

“Baekhyun…” Chanyeol couldn't do this anymore. He needed to touch himself. He needed to go to the toilet and just take care of him for a few minutes. Just… 

 

But there, he felt cold against warm, and that made it as if air could finally come back in his lungs. Looking down, he saw that Baekhyun had a finger around the elastic band of his briefs, and with a small smile, was tugging at it to peel it off. 

 

“Hyun…”

 

“I've never done this, but I want to do it.” The archer said in a small voice. “Please bear with me, I'm not exactly sure how to do this properly.” He locked his lips, dainty fingers coming to wrap themselves gently around the shaft, this simple gesture making Chanyeol's stomach coil and his shoulders tremble. 

 

“Wait, condom.” He panted as he saw Baekhyun lean in. But the male only looked up before shaking his head. “It's fine, don't worry. You're clean, I know it.”

 

Chanyeol pressed his lips in a line, finger going for the back of Baekhyun's head, tangling themselves in the dark locks. He usually never accepted this, he preferred safe sex, but he knew that blowjobs with a condom spoiled all the fun. He would simply make sure not to come in Baekhyun’s mouth, and it should be fine, he tried to reassure himself. 

 

He didn't have to think about this too much though, as his mind went blank as soon as Baekhyun's lips closed around the tip of his shaft, tongue roving very small kitten licks at the slit, tickling it. Just this was enough for Chanyeol's thighs and abdomen to flex as a long, breathy moan came out of his lips. 

 

Baekhyun was slowly, taking his time, very attentive to Chanyeol's each and every reaction. He started moving his head very cautiously, progressively taking more and more of Chanyeol in, suckling gently, and moving his hand at the base of the member in rhythm. He was good, quite very good at it, Chanyeol was impressed. Slowly, he managed to take him almost wholly, his throat constricting lightly around Chanyeol, making the latter leaning closer to the edge. 

 

He could feel the temperature in his body rise, and his toes curl as his blood was pumping faster in his veins, his whole body buzzing in the Blooming pleasure. And when a shiver course up his spine, he fisted Baekhyun's hair, making the boy moan around his aching member. 

 

“Hyun, I'm close…” He warned in an emotion-strangled voice. “Pull out, I'm going to-” 

 

But Baekhyun, with his mouth still full, hummed negatively, calmly stroking Chanyeol's thigh. He didn't want to. This was fine. He wanted this. 

 

And it was what pushed Chanyeol over the edge, to cascade down highs and heaven. The vibration that Baekhyun's throat sent to his swollen shaft freed something in his, and with a guttural moan, he came into Baekhyun's mouth as his body arched forward and he held onto Baekhyun's locks, chanting the boy’s shortened name like a prayer he held close to heart. His sight turn red with black dots and he blinked, trying to catch back his breath, very quickly realizing what he had done. 

 

Baekhyun was looking at him with some cum on his lips, cheeks red and hair disheveled, pupils blown. 

 

“Dearness… Baekhyun love, spit it out.” He rubbed the boy's nape gently, showing him his palm. 

 

Baekhyun obeyed, spitting out the cum onto Chanyeol's palm, panting very softly. 

 

Chanyeol didn't have the time to retrieve his hand, for Baekhyun cupped it in his, one index coming to caress the white thick substance, examining it cautiously, as if he was marveled by it. There was something shining in his eyes. 

 

He was exposed to something intimate, something of Chanyeol, that belonged to him, and that only few privileged ones could see. Baekhyun felt so emotional. Chanyeol was letting him in. Chanyeol was letting him see all of him, even the personal, even the ugly. 

 

Distancing his index a bit from Chanyeol's palm, a thread of cum stayed, linking them. Baekhyun pressed the pad of his thumb against said index, breaking the thread and making another one between his two digits. It was so white, looked so pure and smooth - untainted. Then, he took Chanyeol's hand in his, threading their fingers, pressing their palms together, feeling the cum spread between them. 

 

“It looks like snow.” He purred, leaning his head against Chanyeol's thigh, smiling in a content way. 

“What?!” The guitarist choked, coughing slightly. 

 

Baekhyun rubbed his cheek against Chanyeol's thigh and grinned up at him, all mischievous and looking so, so happy. 

 

And it was there again, the fluttering feeling in Chanyeol's chest. The sunflower. Again, the words bloomed in his mind like nature. 

 

_ I love him so much.  _

 

“Hey, let's go out to play with the snow.” Baekhyun suddenly stood up, tugging at Chanyeol’s hand like an impatient kid, making the other chuckle in disbelief. One moment, Baekhyun Boulder be all hot and sinful, and the other he was just like this, innocent and so simple.

 

Honestly, Chanyeol would have rather stayed cocooned in his bed with Baekhyun in his arms making sweet love to him, but maybe they would have time for that later. 

 

Like this with Baekhyun, he couldn't help but feel as if they were infinite. 

 

As if. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It had snowed a lot the previous night, and now the ground was covered with a very thick coat of white unstained snow, especially the grass patches of the park. They both walked slowly, watching as the sun dipping below the horizon, the moon already presented in the orange sky. It wasn't that late, but winter had this charm to it that made the night come earlier, as if a call for lovers to cuddle longer in bed. Chanyeol lined the idea of cuddling in bed with Baekhyun as the sky would cry blood as the moon parted with the sun, but this was nice too. Baekhyun was walking ahead of him. There were a few people in the park, today was an extremely cold day, the temperatures way below the usual for the season. The archer’s face was buried under a scarf and a venue only his freckled nose poking out, it had Chanyeol desiring to kiss it. 

 

It was still snowing actually, gently, but enough to repellent lost of the Seoul items from coming to have a nice walk in the park. 

 

“You know,” Baekhyun suddenly spoke up, tearing Chanyeol away from his thoughts, “actually, the first time I saw you was there.” He revealed, voice slightly muffled under how scarf. 

 

Chanyeol looked above the archer’s shoulder. There was a humongous beech tree with a wide spreading crown, bare of any leaf but hole to the snow that was blanketing its elegant branches and twigs that looked like Claude Monet’s brush strokes, both finely refined and exuding the same delicacy impressionism paintings did. It was Chanyeol's favorite tree. 

 

“It's Barney.” He smiled fondly as he walked toward it, setting his palm on the soft grayish bark. 

 

“You were hugging it.” Baekhyun walked up to him, explaining, but with a question lingering in his tone. 

 

Chanyeol sighed with a smile, nodding as he looked up. The light was playing, dancing their way through the branches and twigs, reflecting itself on the snow. 

 

“ _ Shinrinokyu _ .” He breathed, looking back at Baekhyun. “Forest bathing.” He translated. “It's a Japanese form of therapy, a tree therapy. It is believed that through the chemicals of the plants, you can rejuvenate.” He explained to a curious Baekhyun who was drinking his words. “Apparently, each plant, each tree has its own benefits. Beech trees are said to bring serenity. So I've been spending a lot of time hugging this beech tree, binding with my Barney bro.” He chuckled, eerily patting his said ‘bro’ before he gave it a hug. 

 

Baekhyun watched, how Chanyeol seemed to relax as he did so, closing his eyes and exhaling, he seemed at peace. The snow was gathering in his lashes and untied hair, and he was slowly beautiful like this. Baekhyun found himself desiring to kiss him. Just there. Under the beech tree. 

 

“You should try it too.” Chanyeol whispered as he opened his eyes slowly. 

 

Baekhyun blinked, finding the idea a bit weird. If people saw him hugging a tree, they would most probably think he was looney. 

 

“I'm not sure…” He started, very hesitant, taking a step back, but he saw Chanyeol's pout, and immediately found that he couldn't win against that. “Okay, fine…” He walked toward the tree, before letting his palms caress the surface of the trunk. It was surprisingly quite soft. He let his body lean against it, wrapping his hands as much as he could around the thick tree. 

 

Closing his eyes, he tried to free himself from every thought that tried to push through his tired mind. And it was nice. Doing this. It brought calm to his body somehow, to do nothing but focus on the silence. It permitted him to hear things. Hear things he usually couldn't, because he wasn't giving them attention. He could hear the chirping of a bird in the tree, and the humming of the wind as it danced with the snowflakes. He also heard the laughter of a kid, somewhere farther away, and just the sounds of Chanyeol's feet as the snow crunched under his weight, before he wrapped his own arms around the tree, and back hugged Baekhyun, pressing his lips on the cold tip of his ear shell. 

 

Chanyeol said nothing. And Baekhyun could hear his breathing. It was a bit labored, a bit rushed, as if he was short on air. He was mainly breathing from his mouth it seemed. 

 

_ “Baek-Hyun.”  _ Chanyeol made sure to pronounce each syllable slowly, take his time to savor it rolling off his lips. It had Baekhyun shiver. 

 

He could hear his own thoughts too. Thoughts he couldn't hear before, because they were covered by others, less important, but louder ones. 

 

He leaned his head back, letting it rest on Chanyeol's shoulder. 

 

“I’m sorry.” He opened his eyes, trying and managing to lock gazes with Chanyeol. “For not realizing sooner. For looking as if I didn’t care.” He added, biting on his lips before smacking them accidentally. “It is true, that I’ve been only thinking about myself for the past few days, and that I tend to be pretty self-centered and not realize the things that are happening to me.” He nodded, and swiftly, he turned around, Chanyeol's arms still caging him against the tree, but like this, he could see him better. He could see that Baekhyun was being honest. “I would like to blame it on archery and say that it taught me to  focus on one thing only, but that would be too easy.” He smiled, but there was no humor. “However, I don’t want you to think that I am never looking at you, or looking out for you.” He set his hand on Chanyeol's chest, catching the tread of his hood and fiddling with it before he looked back into Chanyeol's eyes. They were dark, face unreadable but attentive. “I’m not the best at expressing myself, I tend to keep things for myself, but I think I need to tell you this.”

 

He marked a pause, his fingers going to push a strand of Chanyeol hair behind his ear. An old couple passed, and for a moment, it had panic bubbling up in his chest, but he simply looked away, back into Chanyeol's eyes, and he found security there, and the courage he needed to speak on. 

 

“I realized a lot of things about you.” He smiled a bit. “I realized that your left eye closes slightly more than the right one when you laugh. I realized that you actually dislike cold chicken, but you never complain. I realize that you like looking at me when I eat, and I also realized that I like it, when you look at me this way.” He added with a blush, and the shadow of a timid smile. “I did realize that you have troubles sleeping, and that very often you go into the corridor, just to make sure you wouldn’t disturb me in my sleep. I also realized that many times, you would take the time to please me, but very often we would fail to get to you, so you would release yourself in the toilets when you think I would be sleeping. I always feel so bad about that, but I just don’t know what to say. 

 

Another silence, he saw that Chanyeol was blushing too now, avoiding his gaze. Baekhyun just poked his nose, index then falling on the lips at which he stared for some long seconds, his own parted, but then he closed them, and looked back to the melted chocolate orbs. 

 

“Also, I realized that you weren’t alright. That you sometimes limp, and that you cough a lot. I realized, and it worries me.” He admitted, and the tone of his voice, of laced it was with emotions, showed his honesty. “But all I can do is pray so that you get better, that you are alright, and to be there for you when you need. I try to do that, although sometimes I feel like I have no means to help you, when I can’t even help myself. ” He bore a soft yet broken smile, Chanyeol was blinking, getting emotional, obviously. “I just don't know what to do.” He shrugged helplessly. “But I don’t want you to think that my apparent passivity is due to the fact that I don’t care about you. I do. A lot more than you think.” 

 

“Baekhyun…” Chanyeol hardly breathed, voice trembling. 

 

The archer smiled, earnestly, honestly, so bright. Like the moonbeam in his soul was back, it made Chanyeol's heart swell.

 

“I hope you realize too, that I’m trying to work on my flaws. I’m really trying, I just need a bit of time.” Baekhyun breathed. “To be sure that I found the one I want to be, and to go for it.” He nodded, to himself, as if he was setting a goal in his mind. “I’m sorry if I am being a burden meanwhile. You have the right to tell me. I want you to tell me everything.” He cupped Chanyeol's cheek with one hand. “And I’ll try to tell you everything. It will be a way for me to become better, too. Okay?”

 

“Okay.” Chanyeol breathed. 

 

Baekhyun smiled at him, but faster than  lightning, a red ball threw himself at him, and he found himself tackled to the ground, with Chanyeol on top of him, hugging the daylights out of him. It had a laugh erupt from his chest. 

 

It was such an honest laugh, one he hadn't had in such a long time. One that took root in your chest, and bloomed through your heart. One that made you shy from how honest and exposed it was. Bare of any artifice. 

 

Then Chanyeol rolled off Baekhyun, lying on the snow text to him. They’ve fallen on a huge pile of snow, very deep, that had their bodies buried in it just like a mold. 

 

It felt nice, like this, under the shade of Barney the beech tree, with the now pink light taking on dark violet and pitch black filtering between them. 

 

He heard the snow crunch a bit, Chanyeol moving beside him. And when he turned his head, he gasped. 

 

“What is this?!”

 

Chanyeol had an unlit cigarette set between his lips. It was so weird. Like seeing the evil in the wb of the pure that were Chanyeol's lips. The latter turned his head toward him, smug smile on his lips as he muttered a bit comically, trying to keep the roll of nicotine in place as he spoke. 

 

“It’s an allegory, see: You put the killing thing right between your teeth, but you don’t give it the power to do its killing.”

“Did you just quote  _ The Faults in our Stars _ ?” Baekhyun was staring at him with a deadpan look. His dark bangs were throwing shade over his eyes but Chanyeol could perfectly see the little glitters behind them that signaled the smile which Baekhyun was eating back.

At a loss of a proper reply, Chanyeol simply grinned widely, showing all bright teeth in an endearing way that has his nose crinkled and his brows furrowed - he looked funny like this, with the tip of his nose red from the cold.

“It seemed quite fitting.” He said with the pride of a child who had managed to recite his poem without stumbling over his words too much. The archer rolled his eyes at him, and then there was the deaf sound of a foot colliding against something hard and Chanyeol felt his fake leg move on its own - Baekhyun had nudged him in the prosthesis teasingly, wearing a faked scowl.

“That didn't hurt.” Chanyeol shrugged in a defiant nonchalance.

But Baekhyun wasn't fazed. His face was calm, and there was silence resounding as Chanyeol contemplated the seriousness of the boy’s gaze. It had something strong, something pulling him in. There were still snowflakes caught onto Baekhyun's eyelashes, but they were melting fast. He kind of wished he could kiss them, but at the same time they would probably be gone before he would manage to shift.

“I know.” Baekhyun cut the silence, and Chanyeol blinked, wondering what Baekhyun knew about. “I wouldn't hurt you.”

It was intense, the way he was looking at Chanyeol, right into his eyes, as if he was talking to his soul. Eyes dark, gaze unfaltering. And the cold air between them shifted - Chanyeol felt hot despite his body being hugged by the snow and the coldness embracing him, filtering through his winter coat in an oddly comforting way, all nuzzled. More snowflakes fell, kissing Baekhyun's cheek, the passion of the reunion making the frozen droplets melt against his skin in small beads that dripped down the softness of his cheek.

“I kinda want to kiss you a lot right now but we're kinda in public.” Chanyeol hummed, always looking into Baekhyun’s eyes. He did notice how the archer's lips twitched a bit, whitening as they pressed themselves together in a tighter line. A snowflake fell there too, Baekhyun licked it away.

There, Chanyeol noticed that something was poking against his index. Moving his head a bit, making the snow crunch under the movement, he noticed that it was Baekhyun's doing - the latter was poking his own index repetitively against Chanyeol's.

“What are you doing?” He chuckled, amused by the archer's antics.

Baekhyun kept a straight face, still poking their fingers together as he scolded Chanyeol:

“Shhh, our fingers are kissing.”

He was surprised when Chanyeol suddenly shifted around, legs waddling a bit in the snow as he messily got in his side, accidentally kicking Baekhyun in the shin with his prosthesis. Baekhyun hissed, but he quickly forgot his pain when Chanyeol started fervently rubbing their index together, a focused and determined frown crumpling his brows

“The heck?” Baekhyun blinked, staring at Chanyeol's ministrations.

“Shhh they're making babies.” Chanyeol scolded him very seriously, still focusing on their fingers rubbing against each other, making little  _ ‘gnnn’  _ sounds as he went faster and faster.

He was startled when Baekhyun's hands slipped away from his and slapped it away - a very unsexy and outraged shriek falling from his lips as he hugged his mistreated hand to his chest:

“I thought you said you would never hurt me!” He whined, very much offended.

Baekhyun rolled his eyes at him, curling on himself and rolling on his side to face away from Chanyeol. But the latter certainly didn't miss the faint redness that had spread on Baekhyun's cheeks. He just smiled to himself, internally squealing at the image of a shy Baekhyun.

“A metaphor.”

Chanyeol raised an eyebrow, surprised. “What?”

“It’s a metaphor, see.” Baekhyun whispered as he turned around and looked into Chanyeol’s eyes – deeply. “You put the killing thing between your teeth, but you don’t give it the power to do its killing.”

 

Chanyeol felt the breath of a whisper against his lips before something cold was pressed on them. And just as fast as snowflakes, it melted away – yet he knew it wasn’t that – the lips had been cold, but the kiss had made him warm. Baekhyun’s cheeks were red, and Chanyeol felt his heart flutter. He gripped his chest, groaning. “I think you’ve killed me a bit, indeed.”

“You’re  _ gross. _ ” Baekhyun slapped him on the arm – hard – before getting up and walking away.

Chanyeol tried to do the same but his body just seemed to be stuck, engulfed in the pile of snow, arms flailing aimlessly in the air. “You’re not going to abandon me here, are you?”

The pretty archer was walking away, and as Chanyeol was about to conclude that he was indeed being left to his cruel fate, Baekhyun turned away. And the smile he gave him was so, so blinding.

_ “You really are going to be the end of me.” _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They had raced up the staircase, both stumbling into Chanyeol's room pushing each other playfully, giggling. The warm air inside contrasted heavily with how cold they had felt outside, so their extremities felt as if they were going on fire, the blood finally starting to flow again. 

 

Chanyeol quickly grabbed a towel from the drawer, wrapping it around Baekhyun’s head and frantically started drying his hair, rubbing the scalp while Baekhyun was giving him a big satisfied grin, nose scrunched adorably and eyes forming moon crescents. Baekhyun’s hair was especially wet after Chanyeol had thrown some snow at him. His own hair was wet too, but he would care about that later. 

 

Suddenly, Baekhyun grabbed Chanyeol by the collar and got on his tiptoes, smacking his lips against Chanyeol’s before grinning up at him again. Chanyeol smiled down at him softly, shaking his head at the archer’s little antics. 

 

“What do you want?” Chanyeol asked in a fake authoritative voice as he booped their noses together before giving a quick lick at Baekhyun's lips. The latter chuckled against the back of his hand, brushing the saliva away. 

 

And there, like a switch had been pushed, Baekhyun tilted his head to the side, letting his hand travel to Chanyeol's nape while a very delicate and cocky smirk drew itself on his lips. Chanyeol felt his throat go dry a bit as a hand wrapped itself around his waist and slowly, very slowly, Baekhyun stepped forward closing the distance between their bodies, gaze never leaving Chanyeol's. Tenderly, very much so, he caught Chanyeol's lips between his and sighed against them. 

 

“I want to do something illegal.” He said under his breath, pupils dilated under his eyelashes, Chanyeol felt his own breath being taken away. 

 

Gently, he tilted Baekhyun's chin up, kissing his neck, just above his Adam’s apple, sucking a bit on the soft skin there and drawing out a gasping moan from Baekhyun. 

 

“I have an idea.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Baekhyun followed Chanyeol as they walked down the slope. It was nighttime and many people were out in the neighborhood, gathering around the bars and restaurants. It felt like daylight under all the neon signs. He could feel that Chanyeol wanted to hold his hands, from the way he would let their hands graze and they hurried up, bumping his shoulder from time to time. Baekhyun wanted to do so too, but there were too many people. So he only linked their pinky fingers for a few seconds, before giving an explanatory smile to Chanyeol and breaking the link. 

 

He understood where they were going when they stopped in front of  _ Big Cock Chicken _ . The restaurant was open and there was a lot of noise and chattering inside, Baekhyun realized as Chanyeol opened the door. 

 

Soft rock music was filling the room. The place hadn't changed at all, and although it seemed like it had been long since he had came here, Baekhyun couldn't help this swelling feeling in his chest - comfort.  _ Big Cock Chicken _ felt like home. It was warm, the air around smelled so mouth-watering, and everyone seemed so happy in there. 

 

“Isn't this my Baekhyunnie!” A voice startled him, but it was a familiar voice, once that set some warmth in his chest whenever he would hear it. 

 

Mrs. Lee was walking with her arms open, and swallowed him into a tender hug which he found himself too dumbfounded to respond to. Beside him, Chanyeol was exaggeratingly sulking. 

 

“You never even greet your own son like this.” He huffed in faked hurt, and his words had his mother roll his eyes. 

 

“I see you almost everyday, I'm tired of you.” She pulled his beanie down to hide his face, making Chanyeol whine. “Why did you come here?” She asked as she finally released him, revealing Chanyeol's red face as he was try to comb his hair back into a nice and proper way. 

 

“Wait.” Baekhyun stepped forward to help him, gently playing with Chanyeol's locks to put them back in order and disentangle them. He looked very focused, and Chanyeol lost himself in his admiration for Baekhyun, so much that when he finally looked away, he got a devious smirk from his mother. 

 

But mothers always knew, anyway. 

 

“We would need to use one of the delivery bikes for a little errand, since it's snowing so much we can't use Django.” He explained. 

 

His mother crossed her arms over her chest, a bit reluctant. “You have to promise me both of you will be careful. The weather is terrible, we do not want any misfortune to happen.”

 

Chanyeol went to hug her, crouching down to nuzzle his cheek against hers after giving it a peck. “Of course mom. I also need to steal something from the fridge.” he added fast before running off into said kitchen like a hooligan, snickering like a child. 

 

It had Mrs. Lee roll her eyes, but she then smiled again when her eyes fell on Baekhyun. “It is nice to see you again.”

 

Baekhyun gave her a small smile, feeling a tad shy. “It is nice to be there too. Really.”

 

“Tell me if ever this overgrown child is bothering you, I know he can be a hassle sometimes.” She brushed his bangs away from his eyes. Her fingers were soft. “He likes you a lot, you know. Very much so.” She said in a small but deep voice, her tone extremely serious. “If ever he hurts you or does something you do not understand, don't blame him, please. He hates hurting the ones he loves, but sometimes he's a bit dumb, he doesn't always makes the best decisions although he tries to. But he really cherishes you, Baekhyun.”

 

“Okay, we’re good to go!” Chanyeol suddenly appeared out of the kitchen with two plastic bags that contained something Baekhyun couldn't recognize. 

 

Without an instant of hesitation, like it was second nature to him, Chanyeol took Baekhyun's hand in his, kissed his mother's cheek whispering goodbye before he pulled Baekhyun away with him, exiting the restaurant just like this, never letting go of Baekhyun's hand. It had the latter's heart pound, especially after what Chanyeol's mother had told him. 

 

“Come on, let's go.” Chanyeol patted on the seat of the motorbike, mentioning for Baekhyun to sit. He gave him a helmet before stuffing the mysterious plastic bags into the box on the back of the bike. 

 

“Where are we going?” Baekhyun asked in a muffled voice as he wrapped his arms around Chanyeol's waist, leaning against the man's back. 

 

“Were going to do some illegal stuff.” Chanyeol said, his wink audible in his voice before the bike's motor roared to life, and Baekhyun held him even tighter, closing his eyes and resting his head between the boys shoulders. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Panic almost seized him when he realized where they had stopped. They were in front of a big wooden gate behind which rose a tall modern house that looked speckless. The street was empty and the whole neighborhood calm, eerily so. He hated this. He had always hated the atmosphere that reigned around here. It was so fake, too clean, too superficial. Only surface beauty hiding the ugly inside. His house which he never found himself really able to call a home. And inside was the person that he was supposed to call mother, but that had never felt as such. 

 

“What are we doing here?” He asked in a sour tone, body stiff, his nails dug into the material of Chanyeol's coat.

 

“There’s this movie I enjoy, that has a scene like this where the protagonist goes with his friend to egg one of the friend's ex's car. I've always dreamt of doing it.” He grinned, pretty sure that Baekhyun had the reference. 

 

But Baekhyun wasn't smiling, he didn't really look happy, but more like scared out of his mind. 

 

“This isn't legal though…” He breathed. 

 

Chanyeol just smiled at him, getting down from the bike and opening the box from which he got the plastic bags with the Bowes of eggs out. 

 

“It isn't, and that's the whole point.” He winked before taking one egg out. “Will you?” He presented it to Baekhyun who simply stared at it, still too bewildered. “Okay, can I have the honor of starting?”

 

Baekhyun said nothing, but Chanyeol took the silence as a yes. Getting into his best baseball pitching position, he let his arm swing before he fired. 

 

The egg crashed against the wooden gate in a huge splattering noise, the albumen slowly leaking down the ebony-colored wool, the yolk following down languidly.

It was so enthralling, to see this speckless perfection being soiled like this. Like the dirt was finally revealing itself. Baekhyun could imagine his mother's reaction once morning would come, what kind of shriek she would let out, probably turning into a real angry mess, deeply ashamed by the realization that her neighbors could have witnessed her usually so perfect home being in such a risible state. It was delightful. 

 

“There are no CCTVs in this area.” Chanyeol murmured. 

 

Baekhyun almost jumped off the bike, running to grab an egg of his own. 

 

He didn't even think, didn't hesitate. It was like a rush of adrenaline had gotten into his veins, spilled in his whole body, and he threw the egg with all his strength, the poor thing going to splatter itself against the gate, right next to Chanyeol's masterpiece. 

 

“Fuck.”

 

A huge wave of air accessed to his lungs, and he almost felt choked from how free they felt - from how perfectly he could breathe now. It was as if the cage that had been constructing his lungs for as long as he could remember had finally imploded, and now there was nothing holding him back anymore. 

 

“Fuck this feels so good.” He exhaled shakily, his hands trembling in excitement, pupils shining like never before. 

 

He grabbed another egg, messing in throwing it, without even aiming at something in particular. He just threw it with all his mind, and it went to crash against the mailbox. 

 

“You're doing amazing sweetie.” Chanyeol beamed next to him, laughing. 

 

And Baekhyun felt like laughing too. He didn't know why exactly, but he felt a bubble of hilarity grow inside of his chest. He felt so light. So, so light. The bubble popped, and joy and excitement buzzed in his whole body, making him feel like if he jumped, he would reach the skies and never come back. He grabbed another egg and threw it, this one missing the gate, crashing on the pavement before, but he didn't care. 

 

“This one is from the jobless beggar.” Chanyeol said before he threw his own egg which went to crash somewhere above the gate. 

 

“Oh, this is where the car usually is.” Baekhyun gasped. “It's like my mother's child. Very expensive too.”

 

“Well, I think you're a better child than this car, she's just dumb. We should make the car pay.” Chanyeol shrugged, taking another egg and throwing it above the gate again. 

 

Baekhyun felt something going up is throat, like a chant, so pleasant, making his throat vibrate in a way it hadn't in a while. He was laughing, laughing, laughing, laughing laughing laughing. It felt so nice. So, so, so nice, almost as if he could fly. 

 

Chanyeol paused. With an egg in his hand, he watched Baekhyun. He watched the way the archer moved. How free his body seemed, like the chains that had been holding him back all along had been broken, and he was finally moving according to his will. He was so beautiful like this. Just like that time, during that competition when Chanyeol had cheered on for him. He seemed so powerful. So shining. 

 

He was looking at his Fearless Moonbeam. This was it. What Baekhyun lost, he had found it again.

 

His happiness. 

 

Chanyeol wanted to give him all the happiness in the world, so Baekhyun would keep shining on and on. 

 

Baekhyun suddenly ran toward him. In a moment of drunken happiness, probably too high to think, he got on his tiptoes, stealing a quick peck from Chanyeol's lips, before he grabbed another egg from the pack that Chanyeol was carrying and running back away as if it was nothing. Chanyeol was mesmerized, his breath stolen. 

 

“You’ll kill me if you stop.”

 

It was an easy realization. Chanyeol loved Baekhyun. He loved to see this happiness in him. It would kill him to see Baekhyun unhappy. 

 

Baekhyun was wriggling the egg in his palm. It felt a bit heavier, but he didn't think about it, only throwing it with all his might.

 

The egg flew, passing between the wooden planks of the gate and there was dull sound, like a ball hitting something hard, and suddenly, there was the loud piercing noise of the car’s alarm. 

 

“Holy schnitzel!”

 

Baekhyun didn't have the time to process what was happening. He was still laughing, laughing. But he felt Chanyeol's hand around his, the pull. And before he realized, he was on the motorbike, hugging Chanyeol as they sped away, right when he heard the gate opening. 

 

“Oh my god, what was that?!” He was breathless, shouting on top of his lungs, unsure if Chanyeol was hearing him over the sound of his helmet.

“I might have added some hard boiled eggs in the lot.” He heard Chanyeol shout back cheekily, and Baekhyun just burst out of laugher again, soon joined by Chanyeol. 

 

This. This felt so nice. The wind and the snow hitting his face, the rushing city lights around them, Chanyeol's body in his embrace, and their joined laugher. It felt as if it was them against the world. 

 

They were on a highway to nowhere, but it didn't matter because they were together. 


	5. Chapter 4 Part 2

**_Fourth chapter. (Part 2)_ **

  
  
  


**_\-----------------_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

“I'm pretty sure she had a heart attack when she came out.” Chanyeol guffawed, following Baekhyun up the stairs, still holding the hem of his coat. 

 

“Gosh, how I wish I had seen her face. I bet she looked like this.” Baekhyun made a very ugly grimace, widened his eyes and crooked his lips into a misshapen oval, nostrils flared in outrage. It had Chanyeol burst out of laughter. He collapsed on the floor of his studio as soon as he unlocked the door, hitting it with his palms, wheezing. “I hope I at least left a mark on her damn luxury car.” Baekhyun rolled his eyes. 

 

“From the shriek she emitted I'm pretty sure you did.” Chanyeol was panting, brushing away a single tear that had formed from all the laugher he had. 

 

Baekhyun shook his head, trying to regain his breath too as he tossed his coat on the rack. Chanyeol quickly got his own off too, handing it to Baekhyun who hung it beside his. 

 

“This was so great, I can't believe.” Baekhyun ruffled his bangs after taking off his beanie, trying to unflatten them a bit. “I never thought making omelette would make me this happy.”

 

Chanyeol looked up at him, and with a sincere face, his heart talked on its own. “I feel so happy when you are.” 

 

It was a whisper that came from the low notes and made something coil in Baekhyun's stomach. The archer felt as if someone had pressed their palm over his lips and were trying to suffocate him. 

 

He fell on his knees, in front of Chanyeol, burying his face in the boys neck. There he inhaled deeply, lips traveling above the shoulder as he got high off Chanyeol's perfume, but the  _ coup de grâce  _ came along with Chanyeol’s lips again, when they danced on the side of his neck, just under his ear, whispering. 

 

_ “Baek-Hyun.” _

 

And he came to graze at Baekhyun's sensitive skin on his neck, giving it small licks with the tip of his tongue, making the boy tremble against him as he tried to muffle his loud breaths. So he moved down, met the protruding collarbone which he bit on very slowly.

 

“I want to do another illegal thing tonight.” He breathed like it was a secret from God himself.

 

Chanyeol seized Baekhyun’s chin, and for some long seconds, he stared into those dark shimmering orbs which he had learnt to fall in love with over and over again. And just as Chanyeol parted his lips to say something, anything, Baekhyun leaned in and made them prisoner of his own lips, kissing them softly, making Chanyeol fall in love all over again. 

“This is not illegal.” He whispered, raising a brow as they broke the lip-lock. 

 

Baekhyun stared at him with a deadpan, before he replied, voice low and saturnine.

“It’s not. But it feels like it.” He exhaled, closing his eyes for some quick seconds, as if trying to calm down. “Our society makes me feel like I’ve done something illegal, broke some written law, and deserve all types of punishment.” He chuckled, but without humor. His eyes were so dark, murderous, almost. “Homosexuality isn’t well accepted in Korea. No matter what people say about growing acceptance and shit.” He smiled a crooked smile that just showed how painful it was for him. “Nowhere in the world will someone tell you ‘oh you're gay? congrats!’. Human rights are bullshit and you have no idea how terrible homophobia is in the world of sports.”

 

But Chanyeol didn’t care. Chanyeol cupped Baekhyun’s cheeks and kissed him. Madly, violently, passionately, he kissed, kissed, kissed, kissed Baekhyun. To the point that his lips hurt, but he wouldn’t stop even then. 

 

“Does that feel wrong?” He kissed him again. Deeper. 

 

Baekhyun moaned despite himself, his stomach muscles stiff, shoulders trembling.

 

“People aren’t always going to approve of your choices, but you can’t satisfy everyone, Hyun.” Chanyeol said with a sincere voice. Because he wanted for Baekhyun to be happy. More than anything. Yet, it felt like Baekhyun wasn’t letting himself be happy. And that sole thought hurt Chanyeol so, so, so fucking much. “You have to think of yourself too. Especially when it comes to a choice that impacts you the most - you should think of  _ yourself _ first.”

 

For some reason, Baekhyun found himself submerged with an immense fright. Like this, in Chanyeol’s arms, he felt security, like nothing could happen to him, and like everything would be right. But the sole thought that those arms could disappear, that there could come a day that he would lose Chanyeol, and that Chanyeol wouldn’t be there by his side, in his life anymore, terrified Baekhyun. He wasn’t sure why he had thought of this so suddenly, but it brought tears to his eyes. Chanyeol, Chanyeol was so, so, so generous. Baekhyun couldn‘t imagine not having Chanyeol anymore. He didn’t even want to try imagining it. 

 

It was when Chanyeol kissed him that he realized he was sobbing. There were no tears, but his heart was crying. He loved Chanyeol. He loved Chanyeol so, so much, it was scary, to feel something so big. 

 

Chanyeol probably carried him to the bed at some point, Baekhyun couldn’t even tell because he was so lost kissing Chanyeol, trying to get the most of him, ink the feeling of the guitarist’s tongue on his. He had probably asked Chanyeol to be the one taking care of him this time, he realized as he found their naked bodies tangled on the bed, under the fuzzy blanket, he couldn't remember. Chanyeol was rocking his hips slowly, moving into Baekhyun gently while their fingers were braided together and he was showering Baekhyun’s face with kisses, and Baekhyun had his legs wrapped around the small of his back and he was losing himself in pleasure and delight, losing himself in the hurricane of emotions that were drowning him. But Chanyeol was holding his hand through it all, and that meant that everything would be alright. 

 

They made sweet love, Baekhyun's body accepting Chanyeol in a way he would have never thought he would give himself. Some would say this was wrong, but to Baekhyun nothing felt more right than this delicious sin. 

  
  
  
  
  


*******

  
  
  
  
  


Chanyeol woke up to the smell of mouthwatering food - chicken. Fluttering his eyelids open, he was surprised to see Baekhyun by the counter, fiddling with various Tupperwares, heating up the food in the microwave while eggs were sizzling in the pan. He was wearing Chanyeol’s oversized hoodie again. It reached just above the boy’s knees, and below were milky legs that looked soft - and which Chanyeol knew were soft because he had showered them with kisses just the night prior. 

 

Slowly, he got up from the back, still feeling a bit groggy and his back hurting him, like an acute pain in his shoulder blade that hurt even more when he tried to breathe. His fingers were a bit numb again but he ignored it.

 

“Sup’ babe?” He back hugged Baekhyun, slipping his arms around the boy’s waist and pressing a kiss on his temple. 

 

Baekhyun instinctively leaned back, nuzzling against Chanyeol’s chest. “You were sleeping soundly for once, I thought I’d try to surprise you.” He smiled. “Although I didn’t do much but heat up your mother’s dishes.” 

 

Chanyeol chuckled, eyes darting to the eggs that were still cooking. “Wow, this brings back war flashbacks.”

 

Baekhyun snorted, slapping Chanyeol’s naked thigh. It was then that he realized the guitarist was still stark naked. 

 

“What?” Chanyeol asked innocently at the judging stare Baekhyun was giving. “Don’t act all innocent when you’re not wearing any undergarments either under my hoodie.”

 

Baekhyun started playfully punching lightly Chanyeol’s stomach, consequently pushing him to the bed and falling on top of him. “It was supposed to be part 2 of the surprise.” He huffed.

 

Chanyeol’s eyes widened in realization while Baekhyun’s cheeks were turning slightly pink. It was funny how the archer could get embarrassed at times, and be so bold at others. Smirking, Chanyeol let his palm stroke up the smooth thigh, squeezing the flesh just enough to have Baekhyun’s breath hitch. “Well, we could maybe take care of the second part first?”

 

Baekhyun couldn’t really find anything to say against that. Chanyeol’s hands already on him had stolen all his thinking capacities, and the kiss that came next, his sanity. 

 

“Part three, I was supposed to ask you on a date.” He moaned with his fingers tangled in Chanyeol’s long curls as the guitarist was leaving a love bite on the side of his neck. 

 

“We can do that, definitely.” Chanyeol smiled up at the archer, stealing his breath in the process. Then, he leaned in to steal Baekhyun’s lips against, thumb grazing on the boy’s chin gently. 

 

“It stinks.” Baekhyun broke the lip lock, pushing Chanyeol away a bit too suddenly for the guitarist's taste. 

 

“I didn’t know my morning breath was so repulsing.” He pouted, but Baekhyun just poked his cheek with authority, nostrils wiggling adorably as he was trying to detect what the stench exactly was.

 

“The eggs are burning!” He suddenly jolted up from the bed, running back to the counter where indeed, the eggs had turned into a black goo that would probably vanish if he tried to touch them. 

 

Chanyeol felt bad for laughing, but the way Baekhyun was juggling with the pan, panicking as he tried to stop the massacre was just so hilarious. He was happy. He was simply, happy. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He knew this path. It was a bit of their memory lane. Where Baekhyun had first seen him. Where Chanyeol had ploughed into Baekhyun with Django. Where they had first talked, and first fought. But also where Chanyeol had first shown his vulnerability to Baekhyun, and where they had first kissed, in this sloping lane in Wau Park. They memory slope. 

 

Baekhyun paused there for a bit, Chanyeol stopping too, holding Django which they had been pushing since the slope was still covered in snow and it was too slippery to drive on. He was observing the boy. 

 

Baekhyun had his head leaned back, eyes closed with lashes throwing shadows on his cheekbones while his lips formed an oddly adorable triangle that Chanyeol craved to touch and kiss. But he didn’t dare, because there was that aura around Baekhyun. A sort of atmosphere that made it seem like the boy was somewhere farther away, somewhere in the past, lost in memories.

 

“It’s funny how before, walking on this slope always seemed like an endless torture.” Baekhyun whispered, eyes fluttering open. He was looking at the sky. Chanyeol was still looking at Baekhyun. Always. “I used to feel so breathless whenever I would have to walk up this slope. Like a little kid for whom this slope was like a mountain.” He turned to look at Chanyeol, gaze soft, maybe a bit emotional.  “But now, walking here, by your side, it feels just so much easier. I don’t feel breathless anymore.” He worried his lower lip between his teeth, eyes filling with something Chanyeol just couldn’t describe. “Have I grown up, you think?” 

 

The question caught Chanyeol by surprise. But there was this smile that grew in his lips. This smile of adoration and fondness that was filling his heart, making it swell both so painfully and pleasurably. 

 

“You have, actually.” He breathed. “In a way, you have.” His hand gently stroked Baekhyun’s hair, combing the bangs back, caressing the boy with more affection than words could describe. 

 

Baekhyun smiled at Chanyeol, so proudly, so fondly, too, before he caught Chanyeol's wrist gently and brought the guitarist’s hand to his lips, pressing a quick kiss on it before he turned around and suddenly started running, extending his arms on the side, he seemed like he was flying.

 

He was so beautiful. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Baekhyun stood there for a whole good minute, before he found it in himself to push the door open. It was with a sigh that he did it, and as soon as the door was pushed, the stale odor of perspiration filled their nostrils, along with the sound of arrows being shooted into targets. 

 

Eyes fell on them as they walked into the archery room. Daehyun was there, training. The room was empty save for him. Baekhyun felt the stare, how piercing it was. He had a good idea as to why Daehyun wasn’t so pleased to see him, and somehow, it brought back a flicker of the flame of competitiveness he used to have in him. It was quite pleasurable, in a way, to remind his rival that he was still there - to feel powerful like this, with the effect he had on the guy. 

 

Baekhyun walked to the storage room where they had some bows and arrows kept in, in case of need. They weren’t the best, but they were nice when you didn’t have yours. Also, they would be good enough for someone who had never held a bow in his life. Baekhyun grabbed two bows, along with a bag of arrows, all under Chanyeol’s curious eyes. 

 

“Are you up for some archery lesson?” Baekhyun grinned at him, eyes shimmering. 

 

How could Chanyeol say no to this?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Baekhyun was a patient teacher. He would take the time to explain to Chanyeol how to place his body, how he should hold his bow and which was the best way to proceed to draw on his string, the appropriate movements all shown and explained with Baekhyun’s hands on his, gently touching him, caressing a bit here and there when Chanyeol misplaced his limbs, saying sweet words of congratulations when Chanyeol would do well. It reminded him how once, Baekhyun had admitted to him that his goal was to someday be a coach, an archery coach for little kids. The image Chanyeol had in mind was sublime. He could totally envision a future, older Baekhyun teaching archery to little kids. He would be happy, so happy, and the little kid would be too.

 

Chanyeol wondered, for a fraction of a second, if he would be part of this future, too. But he quickly dismissed the thought. Today was to be a great, enjoyable day. 

 

His first arrow actually hit the target, and the proud smile Baekhyun gave him, the same one his father gave him the first time Chanyeol had won a baseball match, made him so happy. He could do things too. Chanyeol could do things, even if his body was sometimes betraying him, he wasn’t as worthless as he had once thought he was. There was still so many things he could do. And Baekhyun wanted to show him that, Chanyeol knew. Baekhyun wanted to show Chanyeol that he was still very much of a decent and perfectly capable human, and that his little misshape wasn’t making him any less so. 

 

Chanyeol was grateful for that, for Baekhyun to be thinking this way of him. 

 

It was true, that Baekhyun was attentive to him. In his own, small ways, he would take care and worry about Chanyeol. Maybe he wasn’t as expressive as Chanyeol, a bit more on the soft-spoken side, reserved, but he care about Chanyeol deeply, and Chanyeol was only realizing now. They were different, but they bore the same feelings for each other, they just had different ways of acting upon it. And this was fine. 

 

“What are you looking at?” Baekhyun suddenly asked, realizing that Chanyeol had been staring at him, instead of focusing on the target just as he had told him to do so.

 

“I’m looking at my target.” He whispered, eyes never letting go of Baekhyun. 

 

The archer blushed, eyes widening. He slapped Chanyeol’s arm, hard. “You’re so cringey.”

 

Chanyeol pulled out his tongue at him, but Baekhyun kept giving him light punches, until he took the bow from Chanyeol, gently pushing him aside. Chanyeol was surprised for a few seconds, stepping aside to watch what was happening. 

 

Baekhyun stood there, bow in hand, staring at the target. For some very long seconds, he said nothing. His face had switched back to an expression Chanyeol hadn’t seen in a long while. Face devoid of any emotion, eyes like one of a hawk, and lips tight. His shoulders and back were straightened, muscles firm under the t-shirt he was wearing, he looked broad, tall and powerful. 

 

Chanyeol held his breath, watching. 

 

The archer got into position, and swinging his bow in the air in a calculated movement, he pulled on the string, bringing it to rest against his lips for a few seconds, before his finger let go of it, and the arrow flew. 

 

Ten points. Bull’s eyes. 

 

Chanyeol wasn’t the only one who had witnessed it. He noticed how Daehyun had been watching with his jaw clenched, knuckles white around his own bow. 

 

“You know.” Baekhyun let his arm fall limp around his body, still holding the bow, as his eyes stayed glued on the target. “I remember why I first started archery.” He turned his arm, offering Chanyeol one of his most stunning smiles. “It made me so happy, to feel like I had everything in control, and like I could do anything I wanted as long as I would set all my will into it.” He tilted his head to one side, then the other. “I lost sight of this for a while, I got lost, lost control. But now I’ve found my way back.” His smile widened, reaching his eyes, giving them this magnificent shape that spelled happiness, that Chanyeol loved so much to see on Baekhyun. “I strayed a bit, but you were there by my side all along. I am forever grateful, Chanyeol.”

 

“It was my pleasure, Baekhyun.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They didn’t really notice it, how Daehyun exited the practice room, face holding disgusting feelings that he wasn’t even trying to hide.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They had spent the whole afternoon in the practice room, Baekhyun shooting, Chanyeol playing on Lady Swing. It felt a bit like old times, but it also felt a bit better than that. They were happy, both, like this. As if there were no dark clouds looming over them. Chanyeol had brought a Thermos with his mother’s food too, so they ate. He also showed Baekhyun how to play the guitar a bit, saying that it was his turn to teach something to Baekhyun. This was how he learnt that the boy actually knew how to play the piano, had taken classes for a while before he had started doing archery more seriously. They sat on the bench, their bench, where they had their little secret. At some point, Chanyeol had leaned against Baekhyun, body limp as he husked “sup’?” in the archer’s ear, secretly stroking up his thigh. Baekhyun only blushed, lips nibbled on. He remembered. He remembered everything. 

 

They decided to leave just as the sun was beginning to set. Daehyun was still practicing. He hadn’t uttered a word for the whole day, barely taking a break to eat. Baekhyun found pity for him, somewhere deep inside. 

 

They walked to where they had left Django, but as they arrived there, Baekhyun heard Chanyeol’s breath hitch in his throat, and he felt the mood drop. Chanyeol ran the best he could to his bicycle, stumbling because this wasn’t the appropriate prosthesis to do so, and falling on his knees just in front of the old rusty bicycle.

 

Baekhyun saw it, and even to him, the sight hurt. Most of the multicolored streamers had been savagely torn off, some still hanging loosely to the handles, but in a pitiful state, while the ripped ones had been messily braided into the bicycle’s chain and spokes. If you pushed the bike, the tires wouldn’t move, and it would only further damage the streamers. 

 

Chanyeol was on his knees, fingers trembling over the cruel sabotage, his lips trembling and his eyes humid. His voice was a low whisper that pleaded a series of  _ ‘no, no, no, no, please, no _ ”. And the way his shoulders were haunched, spine bent, he seemed so small, so vulnerable, as if he was about to break down and never be able to get up ever again. 

 

It set Baekhyun into such a state of fuming rage. Spinning on his heels, he marched back inside of the practice room with riptide fire in his body, feeling like he could murder someone. He heard Chanyeol get up and follow him, shouting after him to not do anything stupid, that it was fine. But it wasn’t fine. Baekhyun had someone to give a lesson to, and that particular someone was there.

 

“Jung Daehyun, you rat wit!” Baekhyun shouted, voice echoing in the whole room intense and grave. Chanyeol stopped beside the door, unsure of what to do, if he should stop Baekhyun now before someone got hurt, or let the boy do as he pleased. 

 

Daehyun turned around, living Baekhyun a nonchalant look. 

 

“It’s you, right?” Baekhyun slurred, stepping closer to the guy who was looking down at him like he was nothing of a threat.

 

“Are you going to hurt me? You? The  _ faggot _ ?” Daehyun snorted, smirking with so much venom.

 

Chanyeol’s fingers clutched the door’s handle, hand shaking with contained rage. This was a very low move from Daehyun, and he felt terrible for Baekhyun who had to be told such disgusting words. He took a step forward, only desiring to take Baekhyun’s hand and lead him out, away from this monster, and tell him that it was fine. But he didn’t have to. Baekhyun seemed perfectly in control of the situation.

 

But Baekhyun only smiled at him, so sweetly. “I’m not a lowlife like you, I have other ways to show my superiority.” He suddenly grabbed Daehyun’s bow, pulling it away from the guy’s hold. 

 

“How could a  _ faggot _ like you be superior than me?” Daehyun snorted again, flipping his bangs to the side, but obviously annoyed at the fact that Baekhyun had taken his bow away from him.

 

“Why does my homosexuality bother you so much?” Baekhyun asked with a honey voice, acting as if he was analyzing Daehyun’s bow, caressing it. He could see how much it was disgusting the other, and that made him laugh. “Are you afraid it will contaminate you?” He smiled, taking a step closer to Daehyun whose body stiffened, although he was trying to keep a straight face. 

 

“You’re a shame to us, archers. You’re a man, but you go around and mess with other men. This is so shameful. Archery is a manly sport that needs physical and mental strength. Men who do not act like men shouldn’t be given bows.”

 

“Sweetie pie, if you think I am no less capable than you to hold a bow because I like men, I think I should show you something. What do you think, we have a small match and see how me sucking dicks negatively affects my archery skills. Let’s say this. If I lose, you’re going to the World Championships in my stead. If I win, you’ll shut this little dirty mouth of yours and apologize to Chanyeol on your knees for messing up with his bicycle. One arrow. The one who scores the closest to the bull’s eye wins.” He extended his hand, waiting to an agreeing handshake. 

 

But Daehyun just stared at it, muttering something about just how feminine those hands were, and how of a faggot that made Baekhyun, adding something about how those hands were too dirty to have the privilege to hold a bow.

 

“Deal.” Daehyun muttered, but without taking Baekhyun’s hand. 

 

Chanyeol’s breath hitched in his throat, his hand clutching around the door’s handle even tighter. He wanted to step in and cancel this whole stupid deal. Baekhyun couldn’t possibly risk his position just for him, just for an old rusty bicycle. He took a step forward, about to speak up, tell them to stop, but Baekhyun just looked at him, smiling so sweetly.

 

“You’re cheering for me Yeol, right?” He sounded so happy, so innocent. A tone that was asking him for trust.

 

Of course. Of course, Chanyeol couldn’t doubt Baekhyun now. All along, he had tried to show him how much he trusted him, trying to make Baekhyun believe in his own capacities, accept himself as a whole. Now, Baekhyun was about to put all of this to a test. It was what had to be done. So Chanyeol nodded, smiling back.

 

“I’m always with you, Hyun.”

 

Both archers stepped in front of a target. It was seventy meters away. They had one arrow. Daehyun was the first to go.

 

Baekhyun was standing on the side, analyzing him. Daehyun’s stance was good, it seemed he had gotten even better since Baekhyun had left, gaining in confidence. But he didn’t have his usual arrogance. This time, it seemed to be anger, and maybe a bit of pressure. The hand holding the arrow was trembling slightly, but he paused, breathing in deeply, frowning. 

 

A bit farther away, Chanyeol was crouched on the ground, immobile, his hands pressed against his mouth, eyes round and wide watching with fear.

 

Daehyun released his arrow. 

 

“Ten points.” He grinned, suddenly regaining some of his arrogance, chest inflating. 

 

His arrow had hit just beside the ten points circle, grazing the line. Baekhyun stepped up, taking the bow from him.

 

“Nice shot.” He nodded, but his tone wasn’t particularly sour, just normal, as when they used to be training together. 

 

Chanyeol watched as Baekhyun was the one to get into position this time. He had to stand up, but he didn’t know what to do with his hands so he ended up burying them in his hoodie’s  front pocket, fiddling with his fingers to the point it hurt. 

 

Baekhyun was standing there, looking at the target with dark eyes. His face bore no emotions. His back and shoulders were straight, feet rooted to the ground. He swung his bow, pulled on the string, bringing it to his lips.

 

Chanyeol held his breath. Baekhyun wasn’t moving. He wasn’t doing anything at all, standing like this. Chanyeol felt as if his heart was about to burst. He had been holding his breath for so long, but he didn’t dare parting his lips from fear he would make the smallest noise that could hinder Baekhyun’s focus. He counted the seconds in his head. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen… Baekhyun still wasn’t moving. He wasn’t even blinking. It felt like time had stopped, and Chanyeol had been left on a very bad cliffhanger. He buried his lips in the collar of his hoodie, silently murmuring a prayer. He could feel his wooden cross against his collarbone, his hand went for it, he hold onto it tightly.

 

Baekhyun finally released his arrow. 

 

Chanyeol barely saw it go, didn’t even have to hear the sound of it slashing the air, before there was the dull one of the arrow burying itself in the target. But he didn’t dare looking. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. All he could see was Baekhyun’s lips, the way the turned into a small, sad smile.

 

“Baekhyun…” Chanyeol lips trembled. He couldn’t look at the target. Baekhyun was sad. He was smiling, but he was sad. Chanyeol didn’t want to see it. 

 

Baekhyun turned to face him, tilting his head to the side. “Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”

 

Chanyeol’s eyes widened. Finally, he parted his lips, letting out the breath he had been holding all alone. He saw it. The target, with the new arrow dug in. Right on the center, in the very center of the bull’s eye.

 

“Ten points. Bull’s eye.” Baekhyun grinned at him.

 

Just like that first smile, back then, during the competition, when Chanyeol had felt as if Baekhyun was thanking him for his victory - for being there for him in such a moment, and many more. Chanyeol wanted to be part of so many more moments like this.

 

Baekhyun walked up to him, taking his hand and smiling up at him with so much affection, so much tenderness, his hand quickly coming to caress his cheek, cupping it for a few seconds as his eyes talked before it was gone, and he turned to face Daehyun. 

 

“Your shooting hand was trembling. You were indecisive. You acted on impulse, because you were growing tense, instead of taking your time to calm down. But you’re skilled, so you still hit ten points. However, you need to do even better than that if you someday want to compete for an international competition.” Baekhyun explained, and he sounded just like a coach who was looking at the other in his pupils. He had no spite in his voice, no means to drag Daehyun down for his defeat. He was just. 

 

On the moment, Chanyeol held so much admiration for him. At first, he had thought that Baekhyun would act harshly, make a mistake. But he had been wrong. Baekhyun was more level-headed than this, much more than Chanyeol had assumed. He was so proud.

 

Suddenly, Daehyun stepped forward. He got on his knees in front of them. His face was closed, eyes dull, but the way his lips formed such a tight line showed how much it hurt for him to do this, for his pride to be stepped on like this. But he had brought it to himself, and he would falter. With his palms on the ground, he bowed deeply. Then, he got up, and quickly grabbed his bow and arrows, messily setting them all back in his case before he trudged out of the practice room with his head held low. 

 

Baekhyun’s thumb was caressing Chanyeol’s knuckles softly, when he began to walk toward the exit too. He said nothing, Chanyeol didn’t either. As they stepped out, the cold winter wind hugged their bodies. Chanyeol held a bit tighter onto Baekhyun’s hand, and they walked back to the bicycle. The sight of it still tugged at Chanyeol’s heartstrings painfully. 

 

Baekhyun let go of his hand, crouching down, hand caressing the tangled streamers. 

 

“There’s a stapler in Coach Choi’s office, could you go and get it?” Baekhyun asked Chanyeol in a thoughtful voice, handing the keys to him. 

 

Chanyeol wanted to tell Baekhyun that it was fine, that he would just cut the streamers off and that he would turn the page, but Baekhyun seemed set on doing something, so he did as he was told.

 

When he came back, Baekhyun was still in the same position, untangling the streamers one by one, making sure that he wouldn’t damage them more than they already were. His fingers were working gently, efficiently, pulling at the shiny threads with application. Chanyeol crouched down beside him, handing him the stapler.

 

“Thanks.” Baekhyun whispered, taking it.

 

He seemed very focused. He had worked quite fast, almost all the streamers already freed from the spokes and the chin. Some had to be sacrificed for knots had been made of them, but most of them were saved. 

 

“You don’t really have to do this, you know. It’s not important.” Chanyeol muttered. He was feeling bad that Baekhyun was putting so much effort in something so silly. It was him, who should make an effort and just move on from the past. 

 

“Django is precious to you. A friend offered it to you. It is important.” Baekhyun said resolutely as he took the stapler, and started stapling the streamers back onto the handles. “It’s not going to be as beautiful, I’m sorry.”

 

He was diligently working, with his eyebrows scrunched in focus, hands working in a fast rhythm, never getting tired. Chanyeol was watching him intently. Baekhyun exuded some sort of extraordinary aura, a strength that he couldn’t describe. It was his willpower, it was back. The strong and decisive Baekhyun was back, and he was making Chanyeol’s heart beating wildly in his chest. 

 

Feeling a burst of emotions swelling inside of him, Chanyeol suddenly back hugged Baekhyun, burying his face in the archer’s nape, and hugging him so, so tight. 

 

“What’s happening to you?” Baekhyun chuckled, sounding slightly embarassed, but also trully amused. 

 

“Nothing.” Chanyeol shook his head, breathing against Baekhyun’s neck.

 

“Nothing?”

 

“Just the usual.” Chanyeol shrugged again. “Me realizing just how much I love you.” 

 

Baekhyun stilled, his breath getting caught in his throat. He could feel it, his heartbeat quickening. And he could feel the words weighing on his tongue, almost about to slip out.

 

But Chanyeol was faster than him. 

 

“It was actually my first love, who gave me Django.” He whispered, confessing something that seemed to be weighing on his chest. Baekhyun felt the hold around him loosen. He also felt his heart squeeze a bit, but he pushed this ugly feeling away. “She was Seulgi’s older sister. Seulbin.”

 

Baekhyun gulped, staring at the stapler in his hand, and the streamers he was trying so hard to put back. The wind felt very cold, but his body was burning slightly. There was something on his chest, it was heavy. He inhaled deeply, trying to push it away. 

 

“You loved her a lot.” He breathed, biting his tongue immediately after. This wasn’t what he was supposed to say. But anyway, what could he say to this kind of confession? 

 

What could he do, when one moment, Chanyeol was confessing his love to him, and the next one, he was talking about his deceased first love?

 

“I guess first loves are always a bit special.” He felt Chanyeol nod, the arms disappeared from around his waist, Baekhyun felt empty. “Did you have a first love?”

 

He looked at the stapler, the streamers, Django. All he was trying to keep alive and well with many efforts. Something that Chanyeol cared about a lot. A memory of his deceased love.

 

“I dated some girls before, but I can’t really call it love.” He breathed, standing up. He was done. The streamers were stapled back on the handle. They were a bit damage, crooked and crumpled, but they were there, floating with the wind. It was Baekhyun’s turn to confess. “So I guess that makes you a bit of my first love?” 

 

He held Chanyeol’s gaze. The latter said nothing. They just stared at each other like this, for some long seconds. Chanyeol took a step forward and cupped Baekhyun’s cheeks gently, kissing him softly. 

 

But Baekhyun’s heart squeezed in his chest, as he felt the streamers pushed by the wind grazing his hand, like a reminder. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

It had been a while since he had stepped into  _ The Rain and The Sea _ . The ambiance was just as Baekhyun remembered it to be. People were chill, the air a bit stuffy and smelling of wood and alcohol, but it wasn’t very noisy, most of the audience focused on the bands and people playing. Baekhyun was sitting alone at a table, with a grape juice in front of him which he kept twirling with his straw, feeling a bit awkward. But then, a hand set itself on his shoulder, making him jump. Looking up, he was graced by a cheeky smirk and bored-looking eyes that held malice in them. 

 

“Sehun.” He beamed, pushing the chair beside him with his foot so the boy would take it. 

 

The latter gave him a small ‘yo’, sitting himself down beside Baekhyun, eyes immediately going for the stage which was at the moment empty of any performer. They were waiting for Chanyeol to come on stage.

 

“It’s been a while since I last saw him.” Sehun mumbled behind his hand, touching his lips. “We both got busy I guess.” He then turned to look at Baekhyun, but his eyes were shining of an old light that had Baekhyun stiffen. He seized his bottle of grape juice, bringing the straw to his lips and slurping the drink, trying to ignore Sehun’s insisting stares. “Okay, you won’t tell me I guess.” The boy finally shrugged, looking back to the stage as the audience started making noise. 

 

Baekhyun only frowned, wondering just what Sehun wanted to know, or more like, what did he know already. But his attention was quickly stolen when Chanyeol walked onto the stage.

 

He had his hair tied in a manbun tonight and he was wearing the pink oversized hoodie - the one Baekhyun liked to steal. It had his heart squeeze a bit, but he quickly sighed, pushing the feeling away. Chanyeol made puppy steps toward the edge of the stage, setting his small styrofoam cup there, before he waddled back to his seat and started taking Lady Swing out of his case, plugging the acoustic guitar to the amplifier. 

 

If you watched him like this, you would think that he was shy and inexperienced, however, Chanyeol always turned into a whole other person when he would start playing on stage. It was like he would gain in confidence, an aura taking root in him and creating a sort of light that made him glow just like divinites did in many Christian illustrations.

 

Baekhyun felt Sehun take his phone out beside him, turning his camera on. The lights switched, glowing of a cherry red that gave the whole venue a sort of erotic and sensual ambiance. Then, Chanyeol plugged on the strings, and Baekhyun was propelled in another dimension. 

 

It was like this the last time too. Chanyeol just had this way of pulling you in, pushing the keys to your heart and stole your emotions away, shaping them the way he wished and forcing you to feel things you thought music couldn’t make you feel. It resonated in Baekhyun’s chest, each low note made something coil in the pit of his gut, and each higher note made his arm’s hair stand on end, goosebumps covering his skin, and he would find it hard to breathe, for he was worried he would miss a single note. 

 

He recognized the song. When Chanyeol looked into his eyes, as he sang the chorus, Baekhyun realized which song it was. It made his heart swell with diverse feelings, some even contradictory. It was a bit of their favorite song- the acoustic version of A-ha’s  _ Take on Me _ . The song they had crazily danced to. Chanyeol had remembered. And Baekhyun felt touched by it. But Chanyeol still spoke of Seulbin. Chanyeol still went to hide on the hospital’s roof, in his and Seulbin’s childhood bed, when he was feeling down. 

 

Baekhyun found himself torn. Torn between delight and jealousy, he chose to look away, gaze falling again on his bottle of grape juice. He did feel Sehun’s gaze on him, but he ignored it. He was being petty, he knew it, but he just couldn’t help it. 

 

“Are you guys finally together?” Sehun’s voice pulled Baekhyun out of his mulling. Startled, he looked up, eyes blinking uncontrollably, and lips parted, not knowing really what to say.

 

“What?” He hiccuped, taking another sip of his juice, but there was barely any left at this point.

 

“Chanyeol and you, are you an item? I mean, last time I talked to him he seemed pretty set on having you as his boyfriend, so I was wondering if you had reached this stage yet or nah.”

 

Sehun had no tact, this didn’t need any more confirmation, Baekhyun thought. Placing his bottle back on the table, he brought his knees to his chest, setting his feet on the seat and curling into a ball. 

 

“I don’t know, really…” He bit down on his lower lip. “I don’t know what we are exactly, we’ve never put a name on what we have.” He added in a breath, feeling a bit anxious, strangely. He could feel his blood pumping in his veins fast, and his body temperature doing this strange rollercoaster sensation that usually made him feel sick before he would get a panic attack. In the background, he could still hear Chanyeol singing, and it only made him feel more sick. 

 

“But do you love him?”

 

The question was asked so simply, Sehun looking for Baekhyun’s eyes in the crimson light, Baekhyun could feel the prickles on his shoulder, could feel the intense inquiring stare, but he didn’t have the strength to look up, he felt as if he was slowly breaking down, and he didn’t even know why.

 

“I do.” He breathed. 

 

The avowal should have felt like a burden off his shoulder, and somewhere, it was, but there was this cloud looming over his head that just kept hiding the light that was supposed to make him feel better. He just had this sick twist to his stomach - a terrible gut feeling. 

 

He mumbled something else under his breath, but Sehun didn't get to hear what it was, the music covering Baekhyun's voice. 

 

Sehun said nothing, shifting on his chair a bit and turning his phone’s camera off. 

 

Chanyeol interpreted another song, but Baekhyun wasn’t even listening anymore. He had his smartphone in his hands, he was texting Jongdae, asking him where he was, apologizing for not talking to him more, saying he would see him tomorrow at the archery room. It made him feel slightly better to get his thoughts away, but the anxiety was still there, curled into a ball in a corner of his mind, waiting for the proper moment to attack, and Baekhyun could feel it.

 

“Hey.” A hand came to graze his nape, making him shiver. His head immediately snapped up, and his scared gaze met with Chanyeol’s sulking one. “You weren’t watching me.” He said with a pout, poking Baekhyun’s shoulder. He barely looked at Sehun, acknowledging his presence, before he got back to pout at Baekhyun who was busy burying his phone back into his pocket. 

 

“Sorry, I got distracted.” He mumbled, not really finding it in himself to have any kind of eye contact with Chanyeol. To be honest, his only desire at the moment was to get out of the veue and grab some fresh air. But he would feel bad to stand up Chanyeol like this. 

 

Chanyeol who still forced the eye contact, leaning to get on Baekhyun’s eye level, holding him by the shoulders. 

 

“Is everything all right?”

 

It only made Baekhyun more on edge, the way Chanyeol was insisting. He tried to calm down, breathe in, breathe out. 

 

“Yeah. “ He exhaled. “Yeah.”

 

Suddenly, the new band that had came on stage started playing. It was a ballad in korean, Baekhyun didn’t really know its name. He could barely hear the music over the sound of his screaming thoughts. He felt Chanyeol pull on his hand, and it made him almost stumble for a second, but he caught himself back, blinking, trying to brush of the blurriness on his pupils.

 

“Oh, I like this song!” Chanyeol was tugging at his hand excitedly, completely oblivious to the state Baekhyun was in. It was maybe better this way. Baekhyun just had to take it on himself, and try to act as if everything was fine. Because in truth, things were fine. There was no valuable reason for Baekhyun to feel bad. It was all in his mind, and his mind only. 

 

Chanyeol suddenly threaded their fingers together, leading Baekhyun’s hand to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss on top of it. “May I have this dance?”

 

Baekhyun had probably said yes, he wasn’t sure, but the next thing khe new, Chanyeol was leading him to the middle of the crowd, wrapping his arms around his waist, pulling him into a slow dance. Their bodies were flushed against the other as they swayed sloppily to the sound of the music. Chanyeol had his lips pressed against Baekhyun’s forehead, while the latter was resting his head on Chanyeol’s chest. He tried to move in rhythm to the music, but his head was spinning a bit, and he really felt nauseous.

 

“There’s something on your mind tonight.” Chanyeol whispered. 

 

They stopped dancing, still hugging in the middle of the crowd. Baekhyun tentatively looked up, and he saw the worry in Chanyeol’s eyes, it made him feel slightly guilty. But he couldn’t help it. Sehun’s words were ringing in his mind. What were they? What were they, really? 

 

“I was just wondering about something…” He muttered, looking back down, biting on his lower lip.

 

Fingers came to hold his chin, but he dodge them, turning his head to the other side. He felt Chanyeol’s hand consequently fall on his shoulder, slightly limp, awkward.

 

“A penny for your thoughts?” 

 

Baekhyun took some long seconds before anything, weighing the pros and the cons of asking what was really on his mind. But in the end, he wanted to know. He had to know. Chanyeol had told him he loved him, and he loved Chanyeol, so there should be no problems.

 

He looked up, his eyes finally really meeting Chanyeol’s. The latter seemed to be a bit relieved to see that Baekhyun wasn’t completely avoiding him. He smiled down at him warmly. Baekhyun gulped.

 

“Am I your boyfriend?” He asked, his voice slightly hoarse. 

 

There, he saw something in Chanyeol’s eyes. Something that felt like a punch to his guts. The way those eyes widened, lips parting, before they turned dull, and the lips formed a tight line that was trying hard not to turn downwards, while a veil seemed to cover his gaze. Baekhyun felt it, the shiver that coursed his whole body, and that kicked the nausea up, making him feel so sick he felt weak in the knees, and he could feel his palms turning clammy. 

 

“Baekhyun…” Chanyeol breathed, he turned his head, avoiding Baekhyun’s gaze for a few seconds. A few seconds during which Baekhyun couldn’t even hear the song that was being played. All he was able to do at this point, and not without difficulties, was to throw up his grape juice at Chanyeol’s face. “I-”

 

Baekhyun suddenly pushed Chanyeol away from him, taking a step back, trying to regain his breath. He caught himself onto a table, their table at which Sehun was still sitting at, observing them with eyes wide as saucers. Baekhyun tried hard to keep a straight back, to not falter. 

 

“Reply to me clearly, Chanyeol.” He ordered in a deep, clear voice, but his emotions were anything but clear at this point. “We’ve been running around for months now. It is mainly my fault, and I am aware of that, and I am sorry it took me so long to realize where my feelings stood for you, and to accept them. I am fully responsible for this, and I do not blame you.” He said it all in a rush, but with deep sincerity. He knew his own part he had played in all this mess. He admitted to it. “But I think I still deserve a clear reply.” He tilted his chin up, gaining back some strength as the emotion that was slowly growing to be the most important one inside of him was anger. “You said you love me…” He almost choked on that, scared to say it, scared of what would follow.

 

He saw the way Chanyeol’s gaze traveled down to his own feet, as if he had something to blame himself for. Carrying regret on his shoulders. 

 

“I do…” He muttered, and the way his voice sounded was so frail that it made Baekhyun shiver. “But…”

 

Chanyeol didn’t continue. And Baekhyun was trembling. With his hands gripping the table behind him, he was trying so hard to keep his cool, to not just burst here and there, to not break down in front of the person who was currently in the process of breaking his heart. 

 

“But?”

 

He needed to know. He knew already what was coming, but he needed to hear it from Chanyeol’s lips. He needed to have his heart completely torn so he could have a valuable reason to hate on Chanyeol. 

 

The reason didn’t came. Chanyeol only shook his head, unable to say anything, unable to look at Baekhyun in the eyes. 

 

“You don’t want me as your boyfriend.” Baekhyun chuckled, but it was sour, so sour it made Chanyeol wince. 

 

The guitarist took a deep breath, which turned into a very long sigh, a sigh that had Baekhyun’s legs go limp as he leaned against the table, trying not to succumb to the rage that was slightly piling up in him. 

 

“It’s probably better if we don’t do this, Hyun.” Chanyeol said it in a sort of patronizing way that had Baekhyun’s blood stop from flowing, and the anger in him spike up like a flame on which oil had just been thrown. 

 

He lost it there, not even caring if people would hear them. He wanted Chanyeol to hear it all well, and to hell for the others.

 

“Why? Why are you saying this?” He took a step forward, tilting his chin up, almost as if defying Chanyeol. “Why are you rejecting me after running after me for so long? Why are you rejecting me when I made so many efforts to come to terms with who I was, and what I felt for you?” His voice broke a bit, but he didn’t care, he was far too gone, screaming at the guitarist who had his head lowered, lower lip caught between his teeth. “Was it all just a game for you? See until when would the almighty Byun Baekhyun finally fall into your trap before you could reject him cold-heartedly?”

 

This seemed to spark something in Chanyeol who looked up, frowning. “Baekhyun, you know it isn’t that.”

 

“Then what is it, Chanyeol?” Baekhyun asked, tone so aggressive it had Chanyeol take a step back, cowering back.

 

He rubbed the back of his head, making a strand of hair escape from his bun. Baekhyun usually liked this hair so much, but on the moment, it only made him feel utter  _ disgust. _

 

“I just… I think it is better if we don’t do this. For you, especially.” Chanyeol muttered, trying to lock gazes with Baekhyun, but somehow unable to hold it for more than a second. 

 

Baekhyun suddenly felt all the forces leave his body. His arms fell limp on the side of his body, and he didn’t even want to fight anymore. He felt so exhausted, he didn’t want to deal with this, with anything. He could only smile bitterly, as the words Chanyeol had told him earlier in the day rang in his head. He thought of the song Chanyeol had sung too, he wanted to know. He wanted to know, for whom Chanyeol had sung. 

 

“Is it because of Seulbin?” He asked in a last breath, his mind already set for the reply he knew he was about to get, although a small part of his heart was still hoping, holding onto the promise that had laid in Chanyeol’s words, when he had said he loved Baekhyun.

 

But that promise slapped him in the face, when Chanyeol replied with a sad smile.

 

“There’s that too.”

 

Baekhyun felt his whole body seized by a fit of tremor, his nausea kicking against, the bile stuck in his throat and his legs growing weak again. He tried to breathe deeply, to calm down. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t when Chanyeol was standing just in front of him, and all he wanted was for that face to disappear from his sight, for Chanyeol to  _ not be there. _

 

“Okay.” He inhaled, shaking his head and rubbing his face with his palms, blinking. “Okay, gosh, okay.” He trembled again, but exhaled. “Just… Give me your keys.” His voice was slightly breathless, strangled. He coughed. “I’ll go get my stuff and I’ll be out of your way before you go back home tonight. You told me Sehun has a spare so you’ll be fine I guess. I won’t bother you any longer.”

 

He extended his hand, walking closer towards Chanyeol with a resolute pace. Chanyeol tried to take a step back, but there were too many people behind him.

 

“Baekhyun, wait.” He extended his hand, in hopes that he could place it gently on Baekhyun’s shoulders, maybe take back some things he had said, or make things clearer.

 

But Sehun appeared between them, being the one seizing Chanyeol by the arms, distancing him from Baekhyun.

 

“Let him go Yeol.” 

 

Chanyeol let his hands fall limp on his side, powerless, watching how Sehun took his own set of keys and handed it to Baekhyun, giving the boy a small smile before he walked out of the venue, and disappeared from Chanyeol’s sight. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He still had the taste of puke in his mouth when he stumbled into the studio. Mongryeong immediately greeted him merrily, coming to run in circles around him. He hadn’t gotten a walk today so he was excited. Baekhyun patted his head quickly before he rushed to gather all his possessions and bury them into his bag. He didn’t have many things anyway. But as he fiddled through the studio, he found himself slightly disoriented. Every part of it, every single object in it seemed to remind him of something, of a moment he had shared with Chanyeol. The burned pan was still there, waiting to be washed in the sink. And that simple dirty pan reminded him of how, just hours prior, he had been making love - or what he thought as love - with Chanyeol, completely unaware that things would turn out this way. 

 

On the wall, he saw the pictures of Chanyeol playing baseball in high school. Baekhyun barely glanced at him, too scared to look and find other things that Chanyeol had hid from him. He knew he was being childish at that very moment, but he couldn’t help it. There was so much hurt in his chest. There was so much fear - fear to think that during all these shared happy moments between them, maybe Chanyeol’s mind had been somewhere else, thinking of someone else. 

 

It was stupid, he knew, but on the moment, he was just hurting so much, feeling so betrayed, so used, so dirty. He just wanted to get out of this suffocating room, and go away. Not think about it. Just, leave.

 

Once again, he was running away from his problems. With Mongryeong’s leash in one hand, and his bag in the other, he realized just how pathetic he was. He had ran away from home to Chanyeol’s house in hopes of finding peace, and now there he was, running away from Chanyeol, back to his own house. Square one.

 

Running away from your problems surely didn’t solve them. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When he pushed the door to his house open, all happened like the usual. Silence greeted him. He kicked his shoes to the side, unhooking Mongryeong’s leash from his collar before he walked to the lounge. His mother was there, typing on her laptop. Baekhyun just stood there, not really knowing what to do. It lasted like this for some long seconds, his mother probably waiting to be done with what she was writing before giving him her attention.

 

“I see you found your way back.” She said as she pushed back her glasses on her nose. “Did he throw you out? Did he get tired of playing with you? Or has he found someone else.”

 

Baekhyun didn’t reply, there was no point.

 

“I told you, people can’t be trusted. When they tell you they love you, they should be the first you do not believe.” She got down from her chair, walking up to him. Her fingers were cold, as she cupped his cheek.

 

“I’m going to the archery room tomorrow.” He said in a breath, unable to really look her in the eyes.

 

“That’s good.” She flattened his hair with her fingers. “Archery is all you have, and all you can trust after all. Never forget that.”

 

Baekhyun nodded. Inside of his chest, there was just an empty void. He couldn’t even feel anything anymore. He was just tired.

  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  
  


Days were going by slowly, but somehow, Baekhyun had lost count of them. It was all blurry. Most of his time was spent in the archery room, shooting arrows, if he wasn't in the gym working out or having a run in the park. Jongdae came by every day, sometimes to train, but mainly to give him the needed moral support. Coach Choi was by his side in every step of the practice, making sure that Baekhyun was working well, but not pushing himself over the limit. The Championship was in less than a month, and any injury could be fatal. Some days, Baekhyun wouldn’t even go back home. He had brought a futon into the practice room, and he would spend the night there, since it wasted less time commuting from home to university, back and forth. He was on a very strict schedule that left him no time to do anything else but train, train, train, and train. There were also some sessions of relaxation and self-confidence coaching. Furthermore, Coach Choi had managed to make Baekhyun’s mother agree to schedule psychologist sessions with a professional. Thus, Baekhyun would meet with a psychologist thrice a week, just to make sure that he wasn’t breaking down under the pressure.

 

This rhythm was the main reason as to why he had no strict sense of time, apart from the calendar that Coach Choi had pinned in his office and on which everyday he would take care of the countdown until the competition day. 

 

It was nice, in a way. Baekhyun had sincerely missed archery, and he had found again what he liked about it, so even though the whole training was straining, it felt nice, in a sense. It also permitted him to not think of certain things or of a certain someone. But this would be rendered difficult sometimes, especially during lunch hours, when he would sit there with his kimbap brought from the convenience store, somehow always instçinctively looking for the Thermos that used to always be there. Also, there were times at night, when he would sleep in the practice room, but Morpheus would have forgotten him, and those would be hours during which he would have a hard time not thinking about it, about him. 

 

He hadn’t seen him at all, since his intense training had started. It had been weeks. 

 

And as time passed, it felt as if Baekhyun's anger had soothed. Now all was left was this dull pain in his chest, and the curiosity to know what Chanyeol was doing. He wasn’t angry anymore, not at all. He knew he had been stupid too, he had overreacted. Had he been in Chanyeol’s shoes, he would have probably had a hard time too. After all, Chanyeol had never really parted from Seulbin. They had been an item, and one day Seulbin had just vanished. Leaving Chanyeol behind. Of course now Chanyeol would still feel lost, hanging onto something that was no more, but that he never had been given the time to say goodbye to. 

 

With the days passing, this thought started getting heavier and heavier on Baekhyun’s mind, keeping him up at night. Once again, he had been too self-centered, and he hadn’t tried to understand Chanyeol’s position. 

 

He regretted it, a bit. He did. 

  
  
  
  
  


*******

  
  
  
  
  


He had escaped, if one could say so. For the whole day, he had been spacing out. Coach Choi had told him that it was no use to insist when conditions were such, that there was something on Baekhyun’s mind, and that he should take care of it tonight, or else it would keep hindering his practice. Baekhyun didn’t exactly know what to say to this, so he simply listened, letting his feet bring him where they wanted.

 

This was how, as the sun had already dipped away hours ago letting place for the moon and the snow, Baekhyun found himself standing in front of  _ Big Cock Chicken _ . He wasn’t exactly sure why he was there, but in his pocket were the keys to Chanyeol’s studio, so he told himself, convinced himself that he was only there to hand them back, and that was that. 

 

He slowly walked up the staircase, but his senses were telling him that something wasn’t right. There were no sounds coming from the restaurant as it usually would. No lights inside. Nothing. When he arrived to the door, he saw it. The small handwritten letter that was pasted on the glass of the door. 

 

_ We won’t be open for an undefined amount of time due to private reasons. We hope you understand. Sorry.  _

_ Big Cock Chicken. _

 

Baekhyun felt a weight settle in his stomach. His hand around the doorknob was trembling slightly. He wasn’t fond of this. He wasn’t sure why, but he simply wasn’t. 

 

There, his hand instinctively turned the doorknob, and the door cracked open, scaring him. This was intruding on private property, he knew that. But he couldn’t help it. There was a low light coming from the kitchen, and his feet simply led him there. He pushed the curtain aside, asking if someone was there. And someone indeed was.

 

Mrs. Lee was sitting by a small table, with bottles of soju in front of her. She was leaning against the wall, eyes closed, and cheeks wet. Baekhyun felt so terrible for intruding on her like this. For a second, he thought of simply walking out, doing as if he had seen nothing. But then, he heard the small sounds. Sobs. Very light, muffled under a loud wheezing. He noticed how her small body was rocking back and forth, and how she was actually hitting her chest, seemingly having troubles breathing. 

 

Baekhyun acted on impulse. He ran to her, calling her name, immediately starting to rub her back. 

 

“Baekhyunnie.” She recognized him through her tearful eyes. Her voice was hoarse, and she was breathing soundly, as if trying to calm down.

 

“Are you okay?” Baekhyun kept rubbing her back, trying to calm her. “Breathe, deeply, don’t worry. Listen to my voice and breathe in rhythm.” He instructed gently, before he started counting slowly. She listened to him, did as he said.

 

Slowly, her breathing came back to normal, she was calming down. She pulled Baekhyun into a hug, staying like this for a while. It surprised the archer greatly, but he let it be. He could feel her warm tears in his neck, he kept rubbing her back.

 

“Has something happened?” He asked after a while, when she had mentioned him to take a sit, and he took the bottle of soju to pour some drink to her.

 

She had immediately went to the fridge, taking one of the Tupperwares that Baekhyun recognized, and setting it in the microwave. It pinched slightly at his heart. He had missed her food. He had missed this,  _ Big Cock Chicken _ , them. He also poured a glass of soju for himself. He knew it wasn’t right, but Coach Coi wouldn’t say anything. 

 

When the microwave beeped, she brought the food to him with a pair of chopsticks, sitting back on her chair, facing him. She seemed to be doing slightly better, but her eyes were still inked with sorrow. 

 

“Is something wrong?” Baekhyun asked again. He didn’t mean to pry, but he was worried. 

 

Mrs. Lee took a sip of her soju, sighing at the bitter taste before setting the glass back on the table with a dull slam.  She stared at it for a while, a sad smile growing in her lips. She seemed to be thinking of things, Baekhyun felt a bit like the odd one out, he didn’t really dare moving, or eating. He held his chopsticks, watching her. 

 

“I am a failure.” She finally said, in a sigh. “I am a failure, as a mother, for giving birth to a child with a bad health.” She cupped her glass, looking at it. Realizing that it was empty, Baekhyun took the bottle and pour her another glass. She thanked him with a nod, but didn’t drink it. 

 

“I try to blame it on God.” Baekhyun was startled, he hadn’t expected the conversation to go there. He straightened his back, listening to her. It seemed like she had a lot on her chest. “You know, we are strong believers in our family, we love God a lot, and we pray to him every day. But some days, although I try not too, I feel like God has turned his back on us, and I wonder how could he.”

 

She paused, looking at the drink in her glass with a smile that held no happiness. Baekhyun said nothing, gulping. He understood a bit what she meant. There had been times when he had felt like this too, when times got hard, and you felt like it was unfair. But her story was another one.

 

“How could he spill his vile sentiments on a defenseless and innocent child, instead of making me, an old lady, pay for whatever he blames us for?” She shook her head, Baekhyun bit down on his lower lip, looking down. “Sometimes, it even brought me to reconsider his very existence. I thought, there is no way for someone so cruel to be a God. No God would do something like this.” She sighed again. “But somehow, I always find myself praying again. It's like that, and I can't stop that. It's the only hope I have left, I guess. But Chanyeol. Chanyeol, I think he turned his back on religion a bit. And I don't blame him for that. He went through a lot. More than anyone should go through.”

 

Baekhyun looked up at the mention of Chanyeol. He had never seen him pray, that was true. Even when they stayed together, Baekhyun would sometimes take the time for a prayer. Chanyeol always let him do so, not saying anything, but not joining either.

 

“He always wears his cross, though.” Baekhyun hummed, a bit lost in memories. Then, he looked up, blinking. “Is he alright?” Panic suddenly washed over him. Had something happened to Chanyeol, so that his mother would feel like this? He thought back to the note on the door. “Is it why the restaurant is closed?” 

 

Mrs. Lee stared at him for a little while, lips unmoving, eyes sad. Baekhyun didn’t feel good. His blood was drumming against his eardrums, and he was beginning to feel slightly sick again. The food in front of him smelled so nice, but his stomach felt twisted, he couldn’t even think of touching it. 

 

“He told you nothing, I bet.”

 

Baekhyun didn’t reply. He had no idea. Chanyeol had told him some things, but it seemed that there was a lot more he didn’t know. It made him think of that first fight they had, when Chanyeol had blamed him for not paying enough attention to him. Maybe. Maybe Chanyeol had wanted to tell him things, but maybe Baekhyun hadn’t realized, hadn’t offered enough opportunities for Chanyeol to lean on him more. Maybe it was his fault. 

 

“This kid.” Mrs. Lee shook her head. “This kid is dumb. He is too good for his own good.” She then chuckled lightly, as if she was tasting sweet memories again. “Even as a child, he was the kind of kid that would bring home all the stray animals he would meet on the street, and no matter how many times I would scold him, he would still do it, crying his heart out and saying how he couldn't just let them die on the street on their own.” Baekhyun couldn’t help but smile a bit softly at this. It was funny. Maybe he had been a stray animal too, for Chanyeol, somehow. “He has always been like this, trying not to hurt the others, no matter how much it would hurt him. I wish he would be more egoistic, I keep telling him, but he never listens.”

 

Baekhyun blinked at that, not sure he was getting here she was going. But she seemed to be gone in her own thoughts. Her speech was slow, very slightly slurred. She was drunk. Baekhyun felt bad, wondering if he wasn’t intruding on personal affairs. But Mrs. Lee always made him feel at home. She did now too, telling him to eat. He couldn't refuse, although he wasn’t hungry, he took a bite of the chicken that was floating in the soup. She smiled at him, before taking another sip of her drink. 

 

“I think he still blames himself.” She said. “He blames himself for what his disease brought to our family.”

 

Baekhyun looked up again, showing that he was giving her his whole attention. Taking some of the food had slightly woken up his appetite. He felt less nauseous, but there was still this weight on his stomach.  

 

“You know, he was such a healthy child, we never saw it coming.” She shook her head. “You never think that your child will get cancer. But then, the news fall, and you're just left with air knocked out of your system.” She sighed, and her fingers were trembling slightly. Baekhyun watched them. He wanted to take them in his hands, tell her he was there, that it was okay, but he feared it would be stepping over the line. She wasn’t okay. Maybe he should just let her spill it out. 

 

“We couldn't believe it was happening. Not to our Chanyeollie. He had just been scouted for a professional baseball team, he was so close to achieving his dreams, and he saw it all crumble when the doctor announced his diagnosis.” She nodded, as if affirming that her memories were right - that this was how it had happened. “It is terrible, to see this light disappear from your child’s eyes.” 

 

Baekhyun dropped his chopsticks accidentally on the table, but it didn’t startle her. He pressed his palms on his thighs. They were clammy. There was something stirring in his chest. Chanyeol had told him this, how he had lost his dream. Baekhyun knew that, he had seen that same broken light, in Chanyeol’s eyes, when he had told him he had lost it all to cancer. The pain, Baekhyun felt it too. He too, thought that Chanyeol didn’t deserve that. No one did. 

 

His gaze traveled to his wrist. He could understand. He was an athlete too. He had felt it, the fear of losing it all, when his doctor had told him that he could lose his dreams if he didn’t take better care of his wrist. It was something so scary, like a black hole had been presented to you, and you knew that any single mistake would make you fall into it, and inside was nothing. Nothingness. 

 

“We didn't have much money back then, and the hospital fees were heavy on our shoulders. This is when my husband decided to move to Busan, where he got a promotion. I think Chanyeol still blamed himself for that.” She shook her head again, the sad smile back on her lips. “He probably thinks he destroyed our family. But it's not him. The disease did.” She then pressed her hand on her forehead, supporting her head as she closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. She was probably trying not to cry. Baekhyun felt so terribly useless, unable to decide what he was supposed to do.

 

“To this day, his sister, Yoora, she still doesn't talk to Chanyeol. She blames him. She was at an important age, when this misfortune happened. She had just gotten accepted into her dream university, it was a prestigious university, but we couldn't afford it. Chanyeol was getting treatment against cancer, all our incomes were going this way, and we didn't even have enough for that. We had to make a choice. Yoora hadn't managed to get the scholarship, she went to another university in the countryside. She never forgave Chanyeol for that, I think. Even now, she only comes to visit making sure he isn't there.”

 

“It is probably why Chanyeol grew so attached to Seulgi, aside from the fact that she is Seulbin’s sister, the sole link he has to her. Seulgi pretty much took the role of the sister that Chanyeol lost. This child, my child, saw his whole family falling into pieces because of his disease. People tend to forget all the tragedies that come along with having a member of your family being diagnosed with cancer. They think it's just one wall that crumbles, but they forget that this wall falls on others, and like a domino, they all come to crumble. “

 

“It is so painful, to hear your child saying they are tired of hurting everyone they cherish, that they don't feel like fighting on to live, because their life is only bringing misery to others, but then also saying that if they died, that would bring misery too. It is so, so hard, to hear your child being asking you to let him die. And I wonder to this day, if he resents me for forcing him to live on. I saw it in his eyes, the hatred, when he woke up from surgery and found that they had amputated his leg. It had been terrible. Chanyeol took it terribly. Even today, he still has troubled accepting this. He keeps going around on this old rusty bicycle although it isn't appropriate for his state, but he declares that it makes him feel normal, and that he wants to drive it.”

 

“But deep down, I admire him. Chanyeol is so incredibly strong and courageous. He keeps pushing that bicycle up slopes although his prosthesis is cutting into his flesh. He keeps working here, although there are some days when he can barely stand up. And on top of that, he studied well at school, he found a new passion in music, and he gathered money for this Childhood Leukemia association instead of keeping it for him as hard earned money.”

 

“I know he still thinks about Seulbin, it is also probably why he is doing this. It was so unexpected, she died so abruptly, no one had forseen it. It left a deep scar into Chanyeol's heart, and although he doesn't say it, it is obvious.” 

 

“But this is why I was happy, when he started talking about you. After Seulbin, he closed himself a bit. He would always be open to others, but it was only on the surface. But with you, when I would see the two of you together, or when he would talk about you, I could feel that he had finally found someone he wanted to open up to, someone he had found the courage to love. So I want to thank you, Baekhyun. You might not realize it, but you were there for Chanyeol. You are the reason why his smile became honest, and why he found a new reason to be sincerely happy to be alive. He found a new reason to fight, and for that, I am so grateful to you.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Baekhyun found himself sitting on a bench, next to the Han River, not exactly sure where he was. It was cold, but the air was nice, it enabled him to breathe better. With his head leaned back, he watched the moon. It was full, that night. Like a penny, shining in the dark sky. He wondered; He wondered where Chanyeol was. What he was doing. If he was currently watching the same sky as him, contemplating the moon. 

 

He felt a bit drunk, although in the end, he hadn’t even touched his soju. Mrs. Lee had said so many things. Things that both brought so many answers to Baekhyun, but also so many new questions. 

 

In his pocket, he still had the keys to Chanyeol’s studio. He had forgotten to give them back. There was something else, too. Like a small piece of paper. Taking it out, he saw. It was a coupon. His last coupon for a free delivery from  _ Big Cock Chicken _ . 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The sound of a motorbike stopping just close tore Baekhyun out of his mooning. He barely had the time to turn his head around, still sitting on his bench and watching the lights dance on the river, that he heard a grunt.

 

“Who the hell orders a Park Chanyeol?” It said, sounding slightly annoyed, but it was obvious there was a tad of bewilderment and amusement behind too.

 

Baekhyun turned to look at Chanyeol who was walking towards him, taking off his helmet, ruffling his hair. Oh, he had missed this hair.

 

“At least I didn’t go to the other side of the city this time.” Baekhyun grinned cheekily, before he made some place on the bench for Chanyeol to sit on, but the latter didn’t follow. He stood some meters away, with his arms crossed over his chest. Face blank.

 

“What do you want?” He sighed, this time there was was only annoyance and fatigue. 

 

Baekhyun could see it, Chanyeol’s skin was pale, eyebags that weren’t there before setting shades under his eyes, and he seemed to have lost some weight, his cheeks lightly sunken and jaw more defined. 

 

He breathed in deeply, showing a face of seriousness, Baekhyun let his gaze meet Chanyeol’s decisively unfaltering.

 

“I’m leaving in ten days, for the competition, in the US.” He said, voice paused, loud enough to be heard, and not trembling at all. Confident. 

 

Chanyeol said nothing, waiting for something more to be said. Something more did come.

 

“I want to know why you rejected me.” Baekhyun tilted his chin up. “The real reason.”

 

Chanyeol’s shoulders sunk a bit, as if he had internally sighed. But Baekhyun didn’t let this bother him, he only tilted his chin a bit higher, pressing Chanyeol to answer. 

 

“You were right.” Chanyeol finally said with a sigh laced to his voice. “You need to focus on archery. I was a distraction to you.” He said. Baekhyun kept his lips shut tight, listening, not showing anything on his face but confidence. “And your mother was right too.” Chanyeol chuckled, humorlessly, shaking his head. “I am futureless.” He spread his arms, as if he was presenting himself as such - wanted Baekhyun to realize. “I won’t be able to give you anything but maybe the money from social aids.” He then sighed again, self-mock gone, and he crossed his arms back over his chest. “You deserve better than that, Baekhyun.” He then smiled softly, and this was when Baekhyun's face faltered, when his lips trembled, turning slightly downwards, and he felt something flutter in his heart, but something that danced a sad dance. “You deserve someone who won’t slow you down. Someone who will make you happy. I am not that someone.” Chanyeol shook his head again, still smiling sadly. “I don’t bring happiness to the ones around me. I am just a ticking bomb. I don’t want you to get hurt the day I will implode.”

 

Baekhyun curled his hands into fists. He was annoyed. He was annoyed by this, by people always trying to control him, to have a say in his choices, in his feelings and in his life in general. His mother, his father, his coach, they were all doing this every day of his life, treating him as if he wasn’t apt to make choices for himself, to think like a human being. He didn’t need Chanyeol to join the group.

 

“That’s not for your to choose, Chanyeol.” He said in a deep, low voice, some frustration perceivable in it. “You are no one to say how I should feel about you” He shook his head, voice booming. “You are no one to say that you aren’t bringing me happiness, when in truth, it is you who brought happiness back into my life, and saved me from the darkness I was in.” He saw Chanyeol frown slightly at that, breaking his mask of blankness. “You showed me I had the right to live too, and to live happily. You showed me I could be happy, despite who I was. That it was alright, that I didn’t have to live with guilt in my mind and sorrow in my heart.” He had said it all in a breath, now he was panting. But his back was straight, he was standing up, facing Chanyeol, with more confidence that he ever had, more resolution too. He had made his choice. His own choice. And he would stand by it. “So listen to me, Park Chanyeol.” He declared as he pointed his finger to said one. “I, Byun Baekhyun, will go to the US and sweep them all off their feet with my archery skills and bring the medal back home. There, I’ll ask you to date me again. I’ll keep asking you as long as you reject me. You better remember that.”

 

It sounded like a menace, and maybe it was one. Chanyeol’s eyes were wide, seemingly taken aback by this declaration. But Baekhyun didn’t care. He extended his hand, showing his palm, still a resolute frown between his eyebrows.

 

“Now, give me new coupons.” He ordered.

 

Chanyeol almost choked in his spit, trying not to laugh in incredulity. “What?!”

 

“Give me new coupons, I will need them to order more Park Chanyeols.” Baekhyun said with a pouty frown, one that always made Chanyeol feel soft inside. 

 

“The heck?” He blinked, trying to bite back his smile. Baekhyun was so adorable. 

 

“I am your most loyal customer.” The archer huffed, tilting his chin up again, sounding like a lousy  _ ajumma _ . “I’ve been inhaling chicken almost every day, every lunch, for months now. It had come to a point that I keep dreaming of chicken at nights.” He sounded dramatic, but he was so into it, emotions getting the best of him. And there was a huge part of truth in his words, too. “I even think I’m starting to turn into chicken. Look, I even smell like chicken!” He cried as he showed his hand for Chanyeol to sniff at. “So for this reason, I think I deserve more coupons. Actually, I even deserve a life long coupon.” He huffed, still frowning adorably. “So that I could call you forever, and order my Park Chanyeol forever!”

 

This was too much. This, this all seemed unbelievable.

 

Chanyeol simply burst out of laughter, clutching onto his stomach, and trying to catch back his breath, he was slapping his thigh. Shaking his head, he dug some coupons out of his pocket, handing them to Baekhyun. “Here.”

 

However, Baekhyun didn’t take the coupons. All of a sudden, it was like there was a cannonball that was thrown at him, and Chanyeol found the air knocked out of his lungs, which made him cough a bit. When he looked then, he saw it, him. Baekhyun. Hugging him, arms wrapped around his waist so tightly, as if his life depended on his, face buried into his puffy red coat. 

 

“Don’t go.”

 

It sounded like a plea. Like a desperate lost soul, asking for God to not turn his back on them. Baekhyun sounded just like that, and the way he was holding onto Chanyeol, as if he was his lifeline, made something swell in Chanyeol’s heart. He seemed so small, like this, so vulnerable. Like he would break, if Chanyeol pushed him away.

 

“Baekhyun…” He whispered.

 

The  boy looked up, eyes veiled, dark and hooded, lips parted.

 

“I want to kiss you.” Baekhyun breathed, and Chanyeol felt his knees go weak.

 

Despite himself, his arms went to wrap Baekhyun into a tender embrace. He was holding him. It was done now. He wouldn’t let him go. There was no way he could, anyway. He was smitten, deeply, madly in love with Byun Baekhyun.

 

“Why are you making things so complicated?”

 

“I really want to kiss you.” He whispered again, taking steps forward, pushing his body into Chanyeol’s making him stumble back a bit, neck twisted so he could plunge his gaze into Chanyeol’s and bewitch him.

 

Chanyeol lost it there. Actually, he had lost long ago. He was trying to fight something that couldn’t be brought down. His love for Baekhyun was that strong, he just couldn’t run away from it.

 

“I really want you to kiss me too.” He panted, sounding more desperate than he thought he was, pressing his nose against  Baekhyun, and breathing in, deeply, breathing in Baekhyun, breathing in his love.

 

He felt Baekhyun’s hands come to cup his cheeks, gently, they were very cold, but the lips that stole his breath away were so warm, he melted into the touch and gave into Baekhyun’s kiss, feeling himself falling in love with the archer for the umpteenth time.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


And to hell, supposedly good reasoning. 

  
  
  
  
  


*******

  
  
  
  
  


It was like nothing had happened. They were back to their little routine. Baekhyun would spend his days, and now also nights, in the practice room, shooting, shooting, while Chanyeol would be there. The music would follow Baekhyun's movement, soft guitar strums rhythming his gestures and adding happiness to his daily routine. Chanyeol would also bring him nice food, and he would be there to massage Baekhyun’s shoulders at night, when he would finally be done, telling him he had done well, sometimes kissing him, very often sharing the futon together, Chanyeol accidentally falling asleep with Baekhyun and consequently spending the night there. 

 

They were happy, they were both so very happy like this. 

 

The competition was getting closer and closer, and Chanyeol could see that Baekhyun was getting slightly anxious. He was better than he had been before, but the pressure was still intense. It wasn't rare for him to wake up in the middle of the night, all sweet and panting, escaping from yet another nightmare. 

 

Chanyeol thought he had to do something. He knew he couldn't heal Baekhyun, there was no way he would have that power. But he wanted to do a little something for him. 

 

One night, when Baekhyun seemed like he would never stop, Chanyeol decided to do something. 

 

“Hey.” He placed his hand on Baekhyun's head, pulling the boy out of his thoughts. He had been staring at the target for some minutes now, breathing deeply. “You okay?” He combed the hair gently, Baekhyun seemed to ease a bit. 

 

“Yeah.” He whispered. “Yeah. Just slightly anxious, but it's fine. I thought I would stop to breathe a bit.” He smiled. “You?”

 

“I wanted to give you a small tip.” Chanyeol said warmly as he pressed a fast kiss on Baekhyun's temple. The archer blinked curious. “You know I won't be there to cheer you on during the competition, so I wanted to show you a little something. I thought it might help.” 

 

Not saying anything more, Chanyeol positioned himself behind Baekhyun. Gently, he placed his hands on the boys back, caress it, from the trapezius, then down the muscled between his shoulder blades before his fingers snaked down to his ribs, hands settling on the boy's sides. He pecked him on the crown of the head. 

 

“Get into position. Listen to my voice.” He breathed in the locks. They had begun to smell like baby shampoo again, since Chanyeol had brought his bottle for Baekhyun to use. 

 

The archer did as he was told. Setting his feet rightly, and his shoulders aligned, he swing his bow up, drawing hand pulling on the string, he came to press it against his lips and kept the position firmly.

 

“Now, remember this.” Chanyeol spoke softly, voice low and agreable, as if he was telling a secret. “The bull’s eye on the target, it represents your goal. What you desire the most.”

 

He heard Baekhyun breathe. “Okay.”

 

“And the arrow, it represents your soul.”

 

He felt Baekhyun nod, Chanyeol smiled. He was doing good. His shoulders seemed less tense.

 

“You need to shoot it the arrow, your soul. You need to shoot it in what you want the most. That is your ultimate goal.” Chanyeol explained. “Now, close your eyes.”

 

He moved away. Baekhyun had closed his eyes, still holding his position. 

 

“Whatever happens next, you need to keep this stance.” Chanyeol warned. “You need to stay like this, until you've figured out what you really want. Then, you'll be able to release your arrow.”

 

Baekhyun nodded. What he wanted. He thought about it. What was it, that he wanted the most? 

 

Suddenly, he felt something soft, slightly warm, familiar, it pressed itself gently against his closed eyelid. Baekhyun felt something stirring in his chest. 

 

What he wanted the most… What he wanted the most was… 

 

The lips moved, to his nose. Soft kiss there, seven of them, he wondered why. His breaths slowed down, and he felt happiness flowing in his body, like a gentle breeze, he felt so light. So light. 

 

What he wanted the most was something simple. Simple like this. 

 

The lips moved to his. Chaste. Innocent, maybe even slightly shy. They pecked his. Pecked. Then there was a caress, before felt a tongue prob at them. Baekhyun chuckled lightly, before he parted them in a sigh, and let Chanyeol's tongue wander into his mouth, very tenderly, finding his tongue, and inviting it to a slow and passionate dance. 

 

Baekhyun knew what he wanted the most. He wanted this. He wanted for Chanyeol and for him to be happy like this, forever. 

 

The kiss stopped. 

 

“Remember this feeling, Hyun. Whenever you feel anxiety crippling - remember how you are feeling now. Remember what you want the most and aim for it. Focus on this only.” 

 

He finally opened his eyes, and saw him - his love. They shared a smile, and as soon as Chanyeol stepped aside, Baekhyun released his arrow

 

It went to bury itself into the target. Baekhyun didn't move, watching it. His body felt so light. So good. 

 

Arms came to envelop him into a hug, bringing him against chest. He hugged those arms, leaning his head back against the shoulder, accepting the hundred kisses Chanyeol was pecking on the side of his face. 

 

“You made it, Hyun.” Chanyeol cooed. “You made it, my Fearless Moonbeam.”

 

The arrow was there, planted precisely on the center of the target. 

 

Baekhyun closed his eyes, relishing in the moment. Chanyeol was swinging their bodies slowly, from side to side, hugging and kissing Baekhyun, telling him how proud he was of him, and how much he loved him. Baekhyun closed his eyes, and let every word, every breath, every smallest sensation to be inked into his brain. To never forget that once, he had felt such a strong and beautiful love. 

 

He tilted his head to the side, nipping at the skin in the side of Chanyeol's neck. “Hey, baby boy.” He hummed. 

 

Chanyeol looked down at him, eyes veiled with tender emotions. 

 

“Let’s make love.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They went, with Baekhyun holding Chanyeol’s hand and leading them to their bench. They sat there and kissed, in the night of the empty archery room. Sharing sweet words and small chuckles as their caresses sometimes tickled. They found each other in the dark, held hands as they danced together, Baekhyun’s body moving above Chanyeol’s as he sought pleasure for them both, and Chanyeol sometimes joined with hip thrusts to hear his lover moan louder. They kissed, kissed, and made love. Came in choked breaths between sloppy kisses, tugging on hair and nails digging into skin. They made love and loved, before they fell into each other's arms, snuggled in the futon, and let their naked bodies be embraced by the arms of Morpheus. 

  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  


Baekhyun woke up the next day shivering, body slightly aching, a bit cold. His hand moved on the futon, looking for a source of warmth, but instead, something scraped the tips of his fingers, yawning, he let his eyes flutter open, waiting for the blurriness to wear off, before realization hit him. 

 

He was alone. Chanyeol wasn't there. 

 

Sitting up, he winced slightly at the pain in his lower back. There was something there, beside him. A sticky note. And Chanyeol's necklace. 

 

Baekhyun took the small wooden cross in his hand, fingers caressing the edges, before he had the courage to take the note too. 

 

It was the small scribbles he knew each curve of, for he had read and re-read all their past shared sticky notes. 

 

Slowly, he read them, letting the time for each word to sink in. 

 

_ ‘Baekhyun, love. I had to leave earlier than planned. I'm sorry. Don't blame me. It had to be done. I'm always by your side, even if I'm not there. You know that, right? Remember what I told you. Close your eyes, and focus on what you want the most. You can do anything, my dear, dear Fearless Moonbeam. Don't worry.’ _

_ -With so, so much love, your baby bird Park Chanyeol _

  
  


Baekhyun felt a bubble of panic grow inside of his chest. He couldn't understand. He couldn't understand the words written between the lines Chanyeol had written. Why did he have to leave? Why was it that, this single note felt as a harrowing farewell? 

 

Chanyeol wasn't there. Chanyeol wasn't there and Baekhyun’s brain seemed to have shut down. He couldn't process anything. He couldn't. He couldn't. There was no air. There was no air getting into his lungs. Like claws had dug themselves in his trachea, he couldn't breathe. He was suffocating, lungs in fire and soul turning to ashes. 

With trembling fingers, he fiddled for his phone. He gasped. There was a message. There was a message from Chanyeol. 

 

Hope stirred him up, he tried to breath, he tried to grasp for air as his numb and jittery fingers tried to press on the notification and open the message. 

 

It was a voice message. 

 

Baekhyun buried his face in his knees, trying to calm down so that he could hear properly what was being said in it. He breathed in deeply, then exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled. 

 

With his thumb, he pressed on the play button. 

 

There, Chanyeol's voice filled the air, low and seductive as ever. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Baekhyun. Baekhyun, my Fearless Moonbeam. You're okay, right? I hope you are smiling right now. You know how much I love it, when you smile. It’s like the birds stopped singing just to pause and watch you shine. Your smile is that beautiful, Baekhyun. It's what makes me the happiest, when you are happy too.  _

 

_ So you once told me that there was this song you liked. This song that made you happy. I want to sing it for you, so that you would be happy. So that you could listen to it whenever you would need a little something to make you happy.  _

 

_ Let me sing this song for you, Baekhyunnie.  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


And Chanyeol sang. With this voice that had swept Baekhyun off his feet the first time he had heard it, Chanyeol sang the song Baekhyun liked the most. With his voice full of love, passion and emotions, Chanyeol sang Baekhyun's favorite song. 

 

Don't worry. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ My dear, don’t worry about anything, let’s sing together _

_ Bury all the painful memories deep inside your heart _

_ All things past is in the past, they all have a meaning _

_ Sing to the one who left, say that you loved without regrets _

_ You went through so many difficult things, you lost that newness _

_ All of the hardships, brush them all off _

_ All things past is in the past, they all have a meaning _

_ Let’s all sing together _

_ Say that you dreamed without regrets _

_ Say that you will dream a new dream _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_ “Baekhyun…”  _

 

_ “Hyun…”  _

 

The boy’s head snapped up. 

 

“Yeol?!”

 

“Baekhyun…” 

 

It was Jongdae. It was Jongdae, who was kneeled in front of him, with eyes so sad, Baekhyun didn't want to see them. He didn't want to see other people sad too. It only made it more real. More real, that Chanyeol had left him again. 

 

“Why?” His voice was broken, he inhaled hard, sniffing - his nose felt stuffed and his head hurt. He felt feverish, too. “Why did he leave, this time?”

 

Baekhyun looked at Jongdae, feeling so powerless, so drained. And Jongdae looked at Baekhyun, with condolences in his eyes. 

 

“He really didn't tell you?”

 

Baekhyun's lips trembled. No. Chanyeol hadn't told him. Chanyeol never told him. 

 

“It's not your fault, you need to know this.”

 

Jongdae's hand on his shoulder felt so heavy, but Baekhyun didn't even have the strength left to push it away. 

 

“Chanyeol was diagnosed with lung cancer. A few months ago, actually.”

 

Baekhyun stopped breathing. His blood wasn't flowing in his veins anymore. His throat was dry like sandpaper, and even tears, he had no more left. 

 

“He got admitted to the hospital today, to get ready for surgery. Lobectomy.” Jongdae explained. “He didn't want you to know, because you'd be worried, and he wanted you to focus on the Championships. The surgery was planned for the day of the final.”

 

Baekhyun's body hurt. Every inch, every cell, seemed to be crying the tears he didn't have. But it was moving. His body. It was moving on its own. He was walking, outside. He didn't have his coat on, nor he shoes. He was simply wearing his pajamas, and he was walking, walking, bow and arrow bag in his hand, walking, until he stopped. 

 

It was there. It was there, standing in front of him, tall and proud. Mocking him, in some way, it felt. 

 

Baekhyun took an arrow out of his bag, and set it on his bow. With a swing of his arms, he held his bow up, and drew on his bow. And he shot. Shot Shot. Shot. Shot. Shot. 

 

But it was mocking him, it was mocking him, dancing under the push of the wind, mocking Baekhyun whose bare feet were being bitten by the coldness of the snow, and whose body was trembling under the breeze, and whose arrows were all missing their target. 

 

The tree stood tall, proud, and untouched by Baekhyun's arrows. 

 

“You're so stupid.” Baekhyun's voice broke as he gasped for air, feeling his airways shrink, as if he was breathing through straws. “You’re so, so, so fucking stupid.”

 

He drew another arrow. This one hit the tree. But Baekhyun fet like it had hit his heart.

 

“No, fuck. No!”

 

He ran. Towards the tree, he ran, and with his aching, frostbitten hands, he tried to pull the arrow out of the trunk. But was deeply stuck. So deeply stuck. He pulled, and pulled and pulled, feeling his fingers cry in pain. He pulled, until the arrow finally came off. The skin on his fingers was red and swollen, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t find it in himself to care. His eyes were stinging, and he felt just so, so, so devastatingly lonely.

 

“I’m sorry.” He cried, snot running down his lips, mixed to tears. “I’m so sorry.”

 

Chanyeol had once told him that beech trees brought serenity if you hugged them. The first time Baekhyun had seen Chanyeol, he was hugging the same beech tree. He had given him a name. A strange name. Chanyeol was like this. He gave a name to every single little thing that held importance to his heart. The tree, he had called it Barney, Baekhyun remembered. Barney.

 

“I’m so sorry for hurting you.’

 

It was rough against his cheeks, and cold against his body, as he leaned against it, arms wrapping themselves around the trunk of the tree - around Barney. Baekhyun hugged the tree. Tight, so tight. He hugged it, trying to mask his tears there, hoping no one would see. 

 

Chanyeol had never said anything, but all along, it had been like he had waited for Baekhyun to notice it. Chanyeol was like this, selfless. Selfless to the point that he would hide he was dying, just so that he wouldn’t make the ones around him sad.

 

Just like birds, who would hide to die. Chanyeol was like a bird, who would hide in a beech tree, trying to find serenity as he would die away from his loved ones, hoping they wouldn’t be too saddened by his disappearance. 

 

Chanyeol was Baekhyun’s little bird. His favorite kind of little bird. The one who brought him joy with his singing, and who would hug trees when he was sad. The one who hummed to his ear, when he needed to be comforted. His tender, tender hummingbird.

 

Baekhyun was missing his little bird. So much. So, so much. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


*******

  
  
  
  
  
  


“And now you are brooding.” Sehun sighed, rolling his eyes as he moved a bit on the chair, the thing creaking under his weight. 

 

Chanyeol didn't say anything. Lying on his hospital bed, he was staring at the ceiling, as if contemplating his life. 

 

He was in a state of ceaseless panic. He hated hospitals with a passion, having spent more than enough times in them as a teenager. Furthermore, it was never the most comfortable feeling when all you could do all day long was to wait and imagine just how would your surgery go. More often than not, it was where the dark thoughts that reigned. 

 

He had been admitted to the hospital a few days ago. Between paperwork, analysis and doctor appointments, he felt his breath coming short. Sehun was coming every day to get a glimpse of him. The doctors had explained to him that thankfully, his cancer was at a low stage. They would do lobectomy on him, to get rid of the part of the lung where the cancer cells were, and after this, he would have to go for a round of chemotherapy, just to make sure that all the cancer cells were eradicated. They were positive that things would go alright, although they had warned him that there could still be some risks. Chanyeol had gotten ready for every kind of outcome, but still it was frightening.

 

“Why didn't you tell him?“ Sehun had bought a basket of strawberries for them to share, he was currently tearing the foil. 

 

He heard Chanyeol sigh, the boy closing his eyes. It took him at least a minute before he replied. 

 

“I never meant to talk to him.” He sighed, gaze wandering somewhere above, staring at the ceiling, as if he was contemplating things - life. “I just thought I would harbor a crush for him in silence, and that it would go away at some point.” He turned his head slowly, to look at Sehun, but he wasn’t really looking at him, gaze still lost in the past. “I ran into him with my bicycle, wounding him. I felt bad, so I thought I should make up for it. Thinking about it now, I guess this was just me trying to convince myself I wasn’t making a move on him, but I guess I actually was.” He sighed, licking his lips before caressing them with his index, still thoughtful. “I tried to fight it away, but I would irremediably be attracted to him. So I thought, maybe I could just try to befriend him? Nothing serious, but just so we would be acquainted.” He snorted, shaking his head. “Of course, it was an excuse. The more I got see of him, and the more I wanted him. I wanted him for myself. At some point, I became extremely selfish. I knew that it was wrong of me to do so when conditions were such, but I just couldn't stop thinking of him. I really wanted him.”

 

He paused for a long while. Sehun said nothing. He wasn’t eating his strawberries. Hadn’t even touched them. 

 

“So at some point, I just said heck to it, and I started seriously chasing him.” He shook his head again. He was smiling, but so, so bitterly. “But I got scared. I got scared when I realized just how much my body was giving up on me. I got scared when I saw that he was getting attached, meanwhile I wasn't sure what would become of me.” He closed his eyes, exhaling deeply, maybe trying to calm himself down a bit. “So I tried to push him away. I told myself that it would be selfish of me to impose my burden on him. It was too late though to realize that. I tried, but every time, it was stronger than myself. Every time, I would be brought back to him.” He opened his eyes, and there, Sehun noticed it. How red they were, how glazed. “And then he confessed.” His voice broke a bit. “He started trying to protect what we had. In the middle of all this, it was confirmed that I had cancer again. I freaked out. I freaked out, and I just couldn't tell him because he would be hurt and he would worry, and I didn't want that. I don't want more people to be hurt because I am a mess.”

 

“You're so incredibly stupid.” Sehun sighed very deeply, forcing a strawberry into Chanyeol’s mouth before leaning back into his chair like he had been drained of all strength.

 

“I am. I probably am.” Chanyeol was laughing, but he seemed to be fighting the tears away. “But you don't know Sehun. You don't know how much it hurts when abruptly, the person you love is taken away from you by this monstrous disease.”

 

Sehun held his breath, he grips around the container of strawberries tightening a bit. He didn’t know, but he had seen Chanyeol back then. He had been there through it all. And he clearly remembered. 

 

“I know how that feels.” Chanyeol said in a strangled voice. “I know. I won't ever forget the day Seulbin died. It happened so unexpectedly. She was fine just hours prior when I had last seen her. We parted for a few hours because I had a physiotherapy session. And when I came back, they told me she had died of an organ failure.” He shook his head. “Just like this. Just like it starts raining very suddenly in the summer, without a warning, a downpour that chills you to the bones.” He sniffed. He wasn’t crying, but his head hurt. His heart hurt. His whole body and soul did. “I couldn't risk having Baekhyun go through the same thing. I'd rather he hate me, than hurt because of me.”

 

Suddenly, Sehun’s phone rang before either of them could say anything more. Juggling the strawberries on his thigh, Sehun fetched his phone out of his ear. He held his breath when he saw the caller’s ID. Chanyeol stared at him, not exactly curious per se, he just had nothing else to do.

 

“Oh hey.” Sehun hummed, slightly mysterious. “Yeah.” He nodded. The strawberries on his thigh almost fell, but he caught them just in time. “Yes, of course.” He caid with a clearer voice, before locking his gaze with Chanyeol. “For you.”

 

Chanyeol found himself with a phone presented to him. He was a bit startled, not knowing who it was because Sehun’s hand was hiding the screen. He took it, almost dropping the mobile phone but catching it back and setting it against his ear.

 

“First, you disappear on me, and then, you don't even reply to your phone. What a gentleman.” A voice so familiar said in a deadpan, and Chanyeol could feel the eye roll in the tone. 

 

His heart almost dropped.

 

“Baekhyun.” He breathed.

 

But the other ignored the sentiments, going on with his lecture.

 

“But you know what, it's fine.” Chanyeol could imagine him shrug in the nonchalant manner he mastered so well, chin tilted up a bit, he could see it. “I know that you love me so much you won't cheat on me while away.”

 

Usually, Chanyeol would have laughed at Baekhyun’s sassiness, but this was no laughing matter.

 

“I’m sorry…” He whispered, truly sounding so. His fingers were playing with his cover, pulling at it, knuckles white from how tense he was.

 

“I hope you have a valid reason for doing this to me.” Baekhyun's voice seemed to be shaking a bit. 

 

“I…” Chanyeol inhaled deeply, clearing his throat as discreetly as possible, feeling his eyes sting. “I guess I got busy with some stuff. But I'll try to come back to you as quickly as possible.” His voice sounded so frail, and his shoulders were hunched. He was tugging more and more at the cover, thumb anxiously wrapping itself in it.

 

Sehun frowned, straightening his back. Was he...

 

“You better, you shit head.” Baekhyun scoffed in a breath, but his voice was so feeble too.

 

Chanyeol snorted. However, he could feel hot trails running down his cheeks, and his eyes were stinging. There was a very long silence during which Chanyeol tried to muffle his sobs into the cover, but his whole body was shaking. He looked just like a little kid that had awoken from a nightmare - only that, the nightmare wasn’t done. It was only beginning. 

 

He still had the phone pressed against his ear, and he was clutching it so tightly, trying to stop his hand from trembling.

 

Suddenly, he heard something, from the other side of the line, like choked hiccups. It was like someone had hit a nail into his heart.

 

“Hyun, are you crying?” He asked, sounding so worried.

 

There was no reply for a while, only sniffing sounds, and muffled hiccups. Chanyeol felt his blood rush in his veins, making his whole body temperature rise, anxiety growing in his chest in the form of claws digging themselves between his ribs, hoping to pierce his lungs.

 

Then, there was a small voice that spoke up. No stronger than a breath, more like a sigh - someone asking for oxygen.

 

“Could you sing it for me? The song…”

 

This song. Baekhyun didn’t have to name it, Chanyeol knew. This song, he had dreaded to sing it for so many years. But then had come a ball of moonshine into his world, setting it upside down and telling him that it was his favorite song. And from that day, Chanyeol had spent every night playing it on the guitar, practicing so that one day, he would be able to sing it for the boy. That boy was Byun Baekhyun, the person Chanyeol loved. 

 

So he sang the song. Softly, very softly. His voice was a bit hoarse, and his throat hurt, his chest too. At some parts, his voice cracked, and he would get interrupted by a fit of coughing. But he kept singing, singing, singing. Because this song was for Baekhyun. This song was for the one he loved the most. It was a song for soothing - a song to tell him that things would be alright, that Baekhyun shouldn’t worry.

 

Against his ear, the phone was pressed, and he could hear it. He could hear Baekhyun’s heart racking sobs. He wasn’t able to contain himself anymore, it seemed, and he was crying, crying, crying. Chanyeol wished he could be there, to hug Baekhyun, tell him that he was sorry, so sorry, and that Baekhyun shouldn’t worry. That Baekhyun should always be happy. But all he could do was sing. Sing, and listen to Baekhyun’s cries, as he tried to suppress his own.

 

When he was done, he heard Baekhyun inhaled deeply, although slightly shakily. Chanyeol closed his eyes, trying to imagine how Baekhyun looked like right now. He could see him, straightening his back, head leaned back as he tried to calm down, probably hiding his face in the crook of his elbow to gather his tears there.

 

“Yeol, I'm flying for the US in a few hours.” Baekhyun said with a voice that had regained some strength, and that wasn’t shaking anymore. “I'm not going to worry.” He declared. Chanyeol pressed his lips in a thin line. Baekhyun was so, so strong. He loved his Baekhyun so much. “I'm going there to win. I'm going to do just what you told me, shoot my soul into what I want the most.”

 

Chanyeol was crying. Chanyeol was crying so hard, silently, the back of his hand pressed against his trembling lips as he tried not to make any sound, but his tears were burning his eyes and cheeks. And he was crying so hard, it seemed like he would never be able to stop. 

 

Baekhyun’s voice spoke softly, but so confidently at first. “What I want the most is for Yeol to come back to me after fighting away the cancer.” However, his voice broke at the last word. Chanyeol choked on a sob, face buried in the cover which he was biting on. “I'll make it, right?” Baekhyun was still crying. He was still crying, Chanyeol could hear it in the way the voice wavered. It hurt. It hurt so much to be the reason of Baekhyun’s cries. “It'll help make Yeol's cancer go away.” The archer tried to say confidently, but he only sounded like a whiny upset child, crying. “We can do it, right?” His voice was breaking, getting high-pitched in certain syllables, shaking. “It's what I want the most.”

 

Chanyeol gasped for air. He was panting, shaking his head and trying to get rid of his tears. Baekhyun was so strong. Baekhyun believed in him. So Chanyeol had to do it. For Baekhyun. He had to fight for Baekhyun.

 

“It's what I want the most too, Hyun.” He exhaled, lips pressed against the transmitter. 

 

He was breathing loudly, and he could hear Baekhyun's deep breathing too. It was slowly calming down, helping him regulate his own respiration. He breathed in sync with Baekhyun, closing his eyes. Maybe if Baekhyun’s lips were pressed against the receiver too, it could be like they were kissing.

 

“I need to hang up now, we're going to the airport.” Baekhyun breathed, sounding unwilling, but forced.

 

Chanyeol smiled, closing his eyes. He pressed his lips against the transmitter a little longer, before he breathed.

 

“Okay.”

 

There was a pause, before a deep long sigh had Chanyeol’s whole body shiver, making something coil in the pit of his stomach.

 

_ “Okay.”  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Yeol.” Sehun finally spoke up, not sure if his friend was sleeping. 

 

Chanyeol hadn't moved after the phone call, hadn't spoken a word. He had simply closed his eyes, hiding his face in his arm. 

 

He moved, when he heard Sehun’s voice calling him. Very softly, he hummed, revealing his face, turning his head to look at his friend. 

 

“There's something I meant to show you.” Sehun said with some hint of nonchalant mystery as he handed his own phone to Chanyeol. 

 

The latter took it, not very interested. At least not until he saw what it was about. His index finger went to click on the string, and sound erupted from the device. 

 

It was a video. Taken in  _ The Rain in the Sea.  _ At first, the camera was focused on the person on the stage - Chanyeol quickly recognized himself. It was him, singing and playing with Django on the stage, interpreting that one song that held a lot of meaning for him. A song he couldn't help but link to Baekhyun whenever he listened to it.  _ Take on me. _

 

It was the first song they had danced to together. For Chanyeol, it was the song that had given him the chance to see Baekhyun. To see the real, uninhibited Byun Baekhyun. A happy Baekhyun. 

 

It was funny because, Chanyeol had discovered, the title  _ Take on me  _ was the literal translation of the Norwegian  _ Ta på meg,  _ which actually meant hold onto me, touch me. 

 

Holding onto each other. Touching. It seemed like that's all they had been doing in their relationship. Chanyeol had held onto Baekhyun, held onto the light, the hope that things would be alright. He had touched Baekhyun. Gave him a hand, looked for a hand for himself. He had touched Baekhyun, given him love, so, so much love. All the love he could muster. 

 

And Baekhyun had held onto Chanyeol. In times of hardships, he had sought for Chanyeol's hand, to help him through the darkness. And he had touched Chanyeol. Made him feel so, so loved. As if he was deserving of love. As if he wasn't a wrecked deviation. 

 

Suddenly, the camera shifted, and the focus traveled to Baekhyun who was sitting curled on his chair, sipping on his grape juice, not really looking at the stage. 

 

Chanyeol's heart squeezed at the sight. Baekhyun was beautiful. So beautiful. He missed him so fucking much. 

 

“Are you guys finally together?” Sehun’s voice asked on the video. 

 

Chanyeol's heart squeezed again, a hiccup escaping his lips. On the recording, he saw that Baekhyun was startled by the question, blinking his eyes like a lost puppy as his lips tightened around his straw. 

 

“What?” Baekhyun asked back, apparently not sure if he had heard well. 

 

“Chanyeol and you, are you an item? I mean, last time I talked to him he seemed pretty set on having you as his boyfriend, so I was wondering if you had reached this stage yet or nah.”

 

Chanyeol listened closely to the recording, drinking every detail of what was upholding. He was a bit breathless. He had no idea, that this had been the conversation that had taken place between Baekhyun and Sehun before he had come back from his performance. It explained things. 

 

“I don’t know, really…” Was Baekhyun's reply. “I don’t know what we are exactly, we’ve never put a name on what we have.”

 

“But do you love him?”

 

“I do.” Baekhyun breathed. 

 

Then, Chanyeol heard something. It was very faint, so he had to turn the volume up to the maximum, rewinding the video a few times to be sure he caught it over the sound of his own singing in the background. 

 

_ “He is the little loving bird that flew into my cold and colorless life, singing the return of spring, bringing back along with colors to my every days and warmth to my ever seconds. I can't live without this little bird of mine anymore.” _

 

Tears were back on Chanyeol's cheeks. Silent. Very silent tears. Outside, it seemed like the birds had stopped singing to watch the two lovebirds crying. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Incheon airport was always such a busy place. People were rushing, some probably late for their flight, while others seemed to have all the time in the world. Baekhyun was walking steadily, staring at Coach Choi’s back as he focused on the rhythmed clapping of his mother’s heels against the shiny floor. He was pulling his luggage, his bow case and arrows hanging on his other shoulder and dangling against his hip. 

 

Coach Choi told him that he would go check-in for them both, while Baekhyun could part with his mother. The archer nodded, handing his luggage and archery equipment to the coach. He watched him walking away, somehow feeling an odd feeling of emptiness feeling his lungs. He was slightly on edge, but more than anything, he felt empty.

 

His lips hurt. He had been biting on them so much, all day long, words begging to slip out of them, but he didn’t let them do so. He was waiting for the perfect timing.

 

And it was probably now.

 

“Keep your head up, Baekhyun.” His mother said as she set her hands on his shoulders, pushing on them so he would indeed straighten up. It helped him, somehow. It pushed the emptiness away, and instead filled him with a sort of adrenaline that had him slightly breathless. “You must crush them all. Don't think about anything else.” She said very seriously, voice as authoritative as always, eyes cold and severe. “Win.”

 

Baekhyun nodded. Without adding anything, he bowed slightly, saluting his mother, before he turned his back on her, and started walking towards the check-in booths. On the shiny ground, he could see his silhouette. It seemed a bit crooked. He tried to straighten his back, but the silhouette still looked odd. He bit on his lips, frowning.

 

Suddenly, he spinned on his heels and started marching back, hands curled into fists.

 

“Mom.” His own voice called, a bit despite himself. 

 

The lady stopped, turning around, looking at him with a shadow of curiosity in her eyes. Baekhyun straightened his back and shoulders, tilted his chin up, and walked up to her. When he was less than a meter away from her, facing her, he realized that there was no fear in him. That the words felt heavy on his chest, and that he just had to free them. 

 

“I’m gay.” He said. So simply. So confidently.

 

He saw his mother’s eyes widen. But it didn’t scare him. He didn’t feel the usual desire to run away from her, to dodge her stare and hide from her judgement. 

 

“I know you're disappointed, but that's how it is.” He added, unfaltering. “That's who I am.”

 

His voice was stable, gaze never looking away, barely blinking. His fingers were uncurled now, but they weren’t shaking. He felt good, in fact. He felt better than he had in such a long time, in the presence of his mother. Free and proud. 

 

“You probably think that me being this way is bad for me, that it'll be a burden on my shoulders, and that it makes me less of a real man.” 

 

He tilted his head, and saw his mother’s lips turn into a thin line. But he kept talking, unbothered. 

 

“However, I wanted to tell you this.” 

 

He felt strong, powerful and unbreakable. He felt so good. He wished Chanyeol could be there to see him. Chanyeol would have been so proud, too. 

 

“Right now, I'm going to the Archery World Championships. I am going there to win. And I will win.” He announced with conviction. “Just watch and see.” 

 

He smirked, feeling better than ever. He  _ would _ win, he knew it. 

 

“Since I won't ever be able to make you proud, then I'll make myself proud but standing up and fighting for what I feel is right. And I will definitely bring the gold medal back home.”

 

He said nothing more. He only smiled, bowing with reverence and respect to his mother, before he turned around, and walked away. Back straight, chest and soul so light. On the ground, his silhouette looked so tall, straight, so illustrious.

 

Behind, a mother was watching her son walk away from him. With the proud yet worried smile of a mother watching her beloved child leaving the nest, she watched Baekhyun flying with his own wings. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Many people have dreams. Dreams are, simply put, the lighthouse in our lives. It is what sets us a goal, and a direction to follow. A reason to hope, and a reason to live on and fight. 

 

Of what are dreams exactly made of, it differs from one human to another. However, there is something common to each and every dream. They have obstacles. No dream is accomplished easily, and for each, there is a need for a decent amount of effort to be poured in.

 

Sometimes, we lose sight of our dreams, we feel lost for a while, before we remember what that goal is, or sometimes we find a new one. Changes happen, life tends to be unpredictable in such a way. But one thing never changes, though: Humans need dreams, to keep moving on. Whatever these dreams are, humans need them. They need a little reason that makes them hang on and push through. 

 

Very few people, however, reach that point where they make their very first dream come true. Very often, our goals change on the way, and our first dream, the one we would fall asleep thinking about as a child, with stars in our eyes as the Sandman would bring them to the world of sleep, this childhood would be replaced and often forgotten. 

 

But when we do reach that point, when we do accomplish our very first, childhood dream, as a human, it is both so incredibly and delightfully thrilling, but also so, so, so undeniably and suffocatingly terrifying. It is as such for the simple reason that you’ve reached it - you’ve reached the top. Now, what purpose do you have left?

 

Therefore, humans ride on that wave of pride, delight and gratefulness, tasting the happiness of having made it. However, once you reach what seems like the top, always, always, inescapably, it seems like all there is left is to fall back to the bottom.

 

Baekhyun was close to this point. 

 

Baekhyun. Baekhyun, who had for his whole life worked for this. Baekhyun who had sweat, cried and bled for this, was so close to reaching the top. It was at his reach, he only had to extend his hand. Swing his bow, draw on his string, and release his arrow. 

 

The timer was ticking. It was the last arrow. The last day of the competition. After this sole arrow, someone, either Baekhyun or his rival, would get to touch the golden medal and set it around their neck. 

 

One arrow, and Baekhyun would be at the top.

 

Then, what he would do, that was a whole other story. There were many things awaiting for him. 

 

Right now, he was standing there, in front of his target, back straight and shoulders aligned, chin tilted up, string pressed against his lip, he felt more powerful and more sovereign of his fate than ever. 

 

He would win this. He knew it. He knew it, because there was no way he could lose.

 

There was no way he could lose, when Chanyeol was waiting for him to come back with the gold medal. Chanyeol, who was currently undergoing surgery, getting a lobe of his lung taken out. Chanyeol, who was there, by Baekhyun’s side. In the form of a wooden cross that was nuzzled against his sternum, Chanyeol was there, whispering him words of love and encouragement.

 

Baekhyun closed his eyes. Silencing each and every sound that surrounded him, he focused on his will, on his soul. On what he wanted.

 

He wanted Chanyeol. 

 

He wanted  _ his _ Park Chanyeol, his little bird who liked to hug trees and to drink banana milk. His little bird who liked to drive on an old and ugly rusty bicycle, and who liked to sing songs of joy while strumming on his guitar. His little bird who would still eat the food fallen to the ground if it had been less than five seconds, and who would always walk around with a little styrofoam cup on himself. His little bird who had lost a wing, but still managed to be the most beautiful bird Baekhyun had ever been given the chance to meet.

 

His bird was there, on his shoulder, watching over him. It was there, flapping his crippled wings, as it fluttered around him. 

 

And with closed eyes, Baekhyun felt it. 

 

On his closed eyelid, then on the other. On his nose, seven of them, soft, very soft kisses. And finally, on his lips, tender, tender, tender, tender liplock that stole his breath away and filled him with the courage and confidence he needed.

 

_ “Don't worry.”  _ The bird hummed. 

 

He shot. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ The bird has flown.  _

  
  



	6. Epilogue

**_Epilogue - Two years later._ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


There are so, so many people. It feels just like a human wave, with a lot of noises, smells - my head is spinning and I stop a little, dodging a middle aged man who seems quite annoyed from plowing into me. 

 

It’s quite incredible, to be honest, this ambiance. It’s as if I had stepped in a page of history that was in the process of writing itself. There is a sort of vibration that fills your soul here. There are mutters in the crowds surrounding me as I wiggle my way to my seat, it’s slightly dizzying, but maybe that just the apprehension that is making me feel so. The atmosphere is electric, and the blazing sun doesn’t prevent the shivers that are coursing in my veins and my heart is pounding in rhythm with the japanese pop song that is being played on the speakers.

 

I feel a bit breathless. But how must you be feeling, at the moment, I just can’t fathom. And although I’m worrying, I trust you. I don’t really know how to explain it, but I just do. 

 

Suddenly, I heard a voice calling me, pulling me out of my anxious mooning. I crane my neck, trying to see where the voice came from. There, I spot him. Jongdae. He is waving at me, smiling so brightly. I smile back, suddenly feeling slightly more reassured. 

 

Things are going to be alright. I know it. Because they have been alright this far, although it wasn’t just a pleasant stroll, and we were met with many difficulties, walked up so many slopes that left us so breathless and tired, we cried so much because of them - both you and I - but we’ve made it to this point, and there is nothing stopping us. 

 

I manage to pass through the bleachers, all the while apologizing to the people who are already seated and have to move their legs so I could pass. Jongdae is patting the empty seat beside himself, and I thank him before claiming it as my own and sitting down. 

 

Seulgi is there, too. She’s sitting beside Jongdae. Their thighs are touching, and I can see the way Jongdae’s body is leaning towards her general direction. They’re cute. I’m happy they got together, really. I’m also a bit envious, though. I wish I could be like this too. Lean toward you and hum something into your ear - words of adoration and encouragement. 

 

I wish I could see you. It’s been so long, since I’ve last seen you. I’m missing you.

 

“You okay?” I hear Jongdae beside me, sounding slightly worried. 

 

It’s there that I realized I had closed my eyes. I got lost in my thoughts again, trying to see you in my memories.

 

“Yeah.” I chuckle, but there’s an edge to it. Jongdae surely notices it, but he says nothing. 

 

Memories. They are a funny thing, right? I have many memories in my head, some clearer than others, like I could actually grasp them if I tried. I would just have to extend my hand, and they be there. You’d be there. I would be able to feel the softness of your skin against my palm, how slightly warm it is, and how goosebumps would appear on it as I would let my hand travel down on your body - drawing a path for you to have sensations to taste and perhaps remember. 

 

The music stops, and the commentator starts speaking, his voice coming out loudly from the speakers, announcing what is about to come. I still feel on edge, but I can’t help smiling. 

 

You’re so beautiful, in my memories. You’re so beautiful. And they are beautiful too, those memories. Memories of us.

 

I have to admit that I don’t remember exactly everything - of the story of us. But I do remember quite a lot. And I certainly do remember that day.

 

Do you remember it, Hyun? 

 

It went like this. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


We drove for an hour at least, maybe more, I can't remember that, actually... But I do remember the wind. There was so much wind, hitting our faces despite our helmets. And there was that strong scent, it felt as if it would linger on our bodies for days. It was the smell of the abitting sea, its salt filling the air and coming to tickle our nostrils. 

 

But what I remember the most is this sensation of pressure around my waist, your arms around it, holding on tightly as we drove on, moonlight above our heads like a blessing. It felt nice, to feel you like this. Against me. Holding me. Truthfully, sometimes I close my eyes, just like now, and I try to remember them all, those sensations. Your body against mine. It had been a while, back then. Just like now.

 

There weren't many cars on the highway, it was pitch night anyway. Had we been in a car, we would have probably been blasting some good 80’s rock songs, but instead I had snatched you away from your prison on the old delivery motorcycle. 

 

“You ordered a Park Chanyeol?” I said with a wink when you came out of the building, all muffled in your oversized coat - which belonged to me actually.

 

You were flabbergasted when you saw me in front of the training center, but you smiled at me and smacked my shoulder, a blush on your face. Then, you hooked your index finger to the collar of my own coat, and you pulled me forward.

 

“I thought I had also ordered a deep kiss as topping.” You whispered against the shell of my ear.

 

It had me shiver, your voice so close like this, almost as if you were inside of me. I wanted to kiss you, to show you that the order was complete, but you were faster. Before I could even smile at your boldness, you pulled on my collar again, making me lean down, a finally allowing our lips to meet. 

 

We were right in front of your campus, but you truly gave no shit. You kissed me there, deeply, stealing for the umpteenth time my sanity, and I tried to do just the same to you. We are both a bit crazy like that. Crazy for each other.

 

And then you broke the kiss, smiling that radiant rectangle shaped smile of yours before you ran to my motorcycle like an excited kid and hopped on the seat, putting your helmet and hugging my waist when I came to seat too, like it was second nature to you. To trust me. 

 

You didn't ask me where I was driving you. When we arrived by the sea, you seemed a little sleepy, but the fresh air woke you up.I clearly remember. You took of your helmet and leaned your chin on my shoulder. I can still remember the shiver that ran down my spine when you breathed into my ear. 

 

“I hope this is a kidnapping.”

 

I chuckled, and then you pressed a kiss on the side of my neck that left fire burning on my skin before you got down the motorcycle and I followed you, watching you as you took care of locking the bike’s tire, my hand on the small of your back, before we walked to the beach. You took my hand in yours and swung them together. 

 

We hadn't seen each other in quite a while, I guess that explained why we were craving so much for each other’s skin against ours. I know somewhere inside, you would have probably preferred if I had simply brought you home, so we could have made love slow and tender in our bed, or just cuddled all night long. You're quite a homey person like this. 

 

But I made a promise to myself, two years ago. So here we were. 

 

You hate having sand in your shoes, don't you? That's probably why you immediately took them off. And you must hate it a lot because I know you tend to be shy about your feet. But I really love your feet. Your toes are adorable, I love drawing smiley faces on them before kissing each of them and hearing you giggle. Your feet are the cutest thing in the world but you don’t understand that. You keep scolding me when I call each of your toes by the names I gave them. I’m pretty sure you are jealous of Wade, your pinky toe on your left foot, my favorite. Oh, I guess I'm straying off the main subject, aren't I? 

 

So yeah, we walked to the beach, and then chose a spot to sit on. It was empty. I guess it would be. This was a wild beach, not very popular, and it was very late or very early, as you may say. You set my backpack on the sand, and I grabbed it. 

 

Inside were plastic bags with which I fumbled, taking out two cylinders of foil, handing one to you, along with a bottle of banana milk. You shook your head at me but accepted them with a smile. 

 

“Did you make them with chicken?” You asked as you unwrapped your  _ kimbap.  _

 

I didn't even reply, you knew I had. Of course I had. 

 

“You've actually gotten better at mastering the art of kimbap rolling.” You snorted before pecking my nose. “Your dickbaps were quite seducing, though.” 

 

I rolled my eyes at you, slapping your thigh. I can take it if you don't want it, I said as I tried to steal the food from you, but you immediately dodged me, stuffing the kimbap into your mouth and munching on it. 

 

So we ate, like this, on the beach, in the middle of the night. I had taken my amplifier, we were listening to the songs that would chose to come on shuffle on my phone. Neither of us really cared about it. Not until one particular song came on. The acoustic version of Take on Me. 

 

You leaned your head against my shoulder and stopped eating. I did so too, and both of us listened to the music closely. It had become out song, along the years. 

 

You suddenly got up, presenting an extended hand to me.

 

“Shall we dance?” You asked, with this ravishing smirk of yours. “We never really got to do it, that time.”

 

That time. I knew which time you were referring to. And indeed. We hadn’t gotten to dance together back then. 

 

So we did it there. I got up with a bit of your help, and I wrapped my arms around your shoulders, as you wrapped yours around my waist. And we gently danced, a slow dance, bodies swaying to the gentle rhythm of the song. Our song. I hugged you a bit closer, burying my face in the crook of your shoulder as you kissed the side of my neck. And I felt your breath on there as we talked, on my skin, on the side of my neck, on the patch you had just kissed. 

 

I asked you how the training was going. It was tough, you said, but gratifying. You were missing me, also. That stole a small smile from me. I was missing you too, but you were accomplishing your dream. 

 

You told me how the Taereung Olympic training Center was incredible, and that you felt like you were indeed progressing each day. I told you that I wanted to see you shoot - it had been a long time since I did. Soon, you replied, very soon. 

  
  


You asked me how my internship was going. It was thrilling. I told you the details. I spoke a lot. I always speak a lot. But you always listen, with that small smile of yours, and your eyes so soft. It always makes my heart flutter when I stop talking because our eyes meet, and I see so much love in yours as you watch me. It always makes me blush. 

 

The song had changed to another one since a long time ago, yet we were still dancing, quite aimlessly, probably following the rhythm of our hearts in love. Or does this sound cheesy? Sorry, I bet it does. But that’s just the kind of power you have over me. To make me heads over heels in love for you.

 

And you know it. You know, the power that you have on me. You like it, when you see that you're the one in control. Your soft smile will often turn into a smirk, and then you would lean in and as I would close my eyes, waiting for your lips to meet mine, more often than not you would stop millimeters before. 

 

“So submissive, my baby boy.” Your breath would fan on my lips, and my sanity would be gone. 

 

We stopped dancing when you heard my stomach growl and you set me free according to your words so that I could go and eat.

 

You then asked me how my family was. I told you everything. How my mother was happy that dad had moved back to Seoul to live with us. How I was a bit worried. I was to meet Yoora in a few days. It had been years. You leaned your head on mine. 

 

“You're awesome, there's nothing unlikable about you.” You said simply, eyes set on the sea that was dancing just for us. “And if she still blames you, then she's immature, and you shouldn't bother with immature people.”

 

I peeled the lid of my banana milk off, gulping the drink in one go, trying to distract myself. But you know me. You know me so well. 

 

“You can't make everyone love you, Yeol.” You whispered as you let your head fall on my shoulder, your foot coming to kick on my prosthesis. It didn't hurt, I said. You chuckled. 

 

“I would never hurt you.”

 

I smiled. I remember those words. I guess you do too. 

 

Then I asked you about your family. You told me how both your parents were fine. How they met for dinner from time to time. They probably had a talk about it all, because it seemed that your mother had made peace with herself, and with your father. 

 

In return you asked me about Mongryeong, as he had been staying with me since you left for Taerung. I told you all about him, how he would sleep in bed with me, always hugging the corgi plush that you had won for me. He was missing you sometimes, but he wasn’t unhappy. I was playing with your fingers as I talked. They were slightly calloused, and I could imagine why. 

 

I could imagine you with your bow, drawing on your string, bringing it to your lips. Your gaze focused, shoulders aligned and back straight, looking like a war leader about to take all enemies down. 

 

There, as I kissed your fingers, one by one, and as you told me that I would probably end up eating grains of sand if I did this, I remembered. I remembered something important. 

 

Two years ago, when we both still hadn't talked to each other, there was a day when I fell in love with you. I never told you about it, because I myself had forgotten about it. I was falling in love with you everyday, to the point that it had seemed like I had loved you forever. 

 

But there I remembered. 

 

It was a day of heavy rain, late at night. Most students were already gone. I had fallen asleep in the park, but the pouring rain woke me up. Looking for a shelter, I stumbled upon the practice room. And as I went to seek refuge in there, I was surprised to see that I wasn't alone. There, in front of a target, was you. You didn't notice me but I did notice you. 

 

I was at a point in my life where things were starting to go downhill again. I was already going through all sort of medical analysis, my doctors were suspecting it was cancer again. It was a point of my life when I thought God hated me, and I hadn't planned to go home that night. I had planned to sleep outside, and wait for the cold to kill me. I thought it would always kill me faster than the cancer would. 

 

But it rained, and as it rained, I met you. You were shooting, shooting, shooting. You had band-aids on your fingers, and a bandage around your wrist. You were probably in pain, but you looked so strong, standing like this, with your figure straight and proud, unwavering. Striving on. 

 

There, I fell in love with you. You, who showed me that pain wasn't an obstacle, and that no matter how much pain life brought to you, all you had to do is make sure your back was straight. And strive on. 

 

I remember, I didn't sleep that night. I spent it watching you. Watching you only. You shone so bright. And you still do, my Fearless Moonbeam.

 

From that day, I came more and more to the archery club. Every time I would feel down, I would come, and just getting to see you, to get a glimpse of you, it made me feel like I could strive on too. 

 

I remembered that, and as I did, a wave of emotions washed over me. You were startled when all of a sudden, I pinned you to the ground, on the sand, and I was kissing you. But you only chuckled, and you kissed me back. With as much love, and passion. 

 

You threaded your fingers in my hair. It had grown a bit, bangs reaching my eyes. You would always laugh at how curly and messy it looked, but you said you love it this way too. I was glad, as long as I could feel your fingers in my hair. I love way you would always pull at it when we wound make love, as you would be reaching closer to pleasure. 

 

We kissed, the sand on our lips, it tasted of salt, and it was uncomfortable, but we still kissed on, and on, and on. 

 

I kissed the side of your neck as you purred. Right on your tattoo, I kissed you. A black hummingbird, it was. 

 

I remember I asked you why you chose to get a hummingbird tattoo there, from below you ear, to the birth of your shoulder, like it was standing on it. But you didn't reply. You said it was a secret, and I only kissed your lips, “okay”. 

 

I know you like calling me your hummingbird sometimes, when we cuddle in bed and you would thread your fingers in my hair. I don't know exactly why you call me that - you get creative like this sometimes. But I love this, about you. I love it when you call me your hummingbird. It makes me think that maybe, maybe… 

 

_ “My hummingbird. My dear, dear hummingbird.”  _

 

“Do you remember, the first time you came to watch me play, at The Rain and the Sea?“ I asked you, panting. Your lips were swollen and you cheeks were flushed, but your pupils got dilated, and I understood that you remembered. “Well, you probably forgot, since you passed out on me, but the next day when you woke up, you said one of your dreams was to go skinny dipping in the Han River.”

 

Your eyes widened when I said that. 

 

“I know this isn't the Han river, but there are too many people there, and it's awfully polluted, and we wouldn't be able to do it without getting our naked asses arrested by the police. So I thought I'd bring you here, and maybe we could make that dream come true, kinda.”

 

Your eyes. I remember your eyes the most, at this precise moment. There were tears gathering at their corner, and I wondered. Was it because of how much you were laughing, or was it because you were overwhelmed? My guess would be : both. Because of the way you kissed me, like you needed me to breathe, and of the way you moaned against my ear. 

 

“Undress me,  _ please _ .”

 

And so I did. We both did. It was messy, but we didn't care. As we kissed, we freed each other from our clothes, and said things that had been weighing on our chest for a while, since we hadn't been able to spend time together for some months now. 

 

How we had missed each other, how we loved each other, how much we wanted the other. We said it all, between kisses and moans. The sand was getting in our eyes, on our tongues, scratching on our skin, but we didn't care. 

 

You pulled me by the hand. We were naked. I had a waterproof airtight cover on my prosthesis to protect it from the water. It was still early May, a few hours past midnight, it was cold, and the water bit at our limbs like leeches trying to scare us away, but we ran on. Deeper into the water, we ran into the sea. The waves were trying to push us away, but I was holding your hand, and you were holding mine as we ran, ran, ran against the current. I stumbled, but you caught me. You hugged me. Water high to our chest, you brought my body against yours, and you hugged me. You were cold, and so was I, but our bodies were slowly warming up. You buried your face into my neck, and I wrapped my arms around your shoulders. I could feel the wooden cross, you were still wearing it, it was digging against my skin as you embraced me. 

 

“I’m happy.” You whispered against my wet skin. 

 

I buried my lips in your hair. It smelled of sand, salt and baby lotion. I was happy too. 

 

I was happy, that two years ago, I didn't give up. I was happy that I got to meet you, Fearless Moonbeam, who unknowingly, showed me that there was light for me too in this obscure world. 

 

You had it hard. I know it. You cried a lot when you came back, gold medal around your neck. I was terrible. Chemotherapy was making me horrible. But you didn't grow tired of me. You stayed by my side, though all of it. 

 

When I lost my hair, you kissed my bald head. When I would puke because of the chemo, you would almost drink the mouthwash before kissing me, telling me with your gesture that no you weren’t disgusted by me. And when I would snap at you because the chemotherapy was making me moody, you would hold my hand and said nothing but how much you loved me. 

 

All along you showed me that you loved me. You were there for me. Said that you were proud of me. 

 

We cried a lot, together. But we loved a lot, and still love a lot. Love brings tears sometimes, but it isn't always a bad thing. In our case, we cried because we loved, and that was beautiful. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


That night, we made love in the sea. 

 

That night, we were young and bold. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


You were training for the 2020 Tokyo Olympics, while I was working my way on becoming a prosthetist, while I still had gigs once in a while, along with dear Lady Swing.

 

We had come such a long way. From two kids who used to be tired and breathless as they walked up the slope to their university, we are now young adults, fighting to reach our dreams, enjoying every seconds of our lives that were given to us, and enjoying each other's company.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


And right now, two years later, I am watching you. I am there, watching you, as you are finally accomplishing your dream, here, in Tokyo, at the Olympic games. Jongdae is beside me, Seulgi too, and I can see Coach Choi in the distance. Your mother is here, too, sitting not very far away from us. She’s sporting such a proud smile, Baekhyunnie, I wish you could see it. I hope you can see it, from where you are. 

 

I guess you can’t watch us at the moment, but it is fine. I know you remember my words. I know it, because i can see you.

 

I am watching you, as you are swinging your bow in the air, pulling on the string, and bringing it to your lips as you close your eyes. 

 

Kisses on your right eyelid, left eyelid, down on your nose, before i steal your lips with mine. That’s how the dance would go, as you would focus on what your soul want the most.

 

And I see it, them, your lips, as they move. Whispering. 

 

_ “Don't worry.” _ I mouthed along with you, humming. 

 

Hummingbird. My dear, dear hummingbird. Don’t worry.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


You shot. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The birds stopped singing to watch you smile.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


And there is something I never told you, Baekhyun. 

 

That day, when you were knocked out after you had drank, you remember? It was that day, the first time you came to see me play at  _ The Rain in the Sea _ . You passed out from drinking and I brought you to my home. When I laid you down on my bed, your eyes, they fluttered open. They looked at me for some long seconds. I watched you, as you watched me. Your hands had came to cup my cheeks at some point, I hadn't registered when, but they were soft, tips of your fingers slightly calloused. 

 

You held my face like this, like it was the most precious piece of porcelain you had seen, and you moved. Your lips stopped above mine, as you breathed. 

 

_ “Why am I fucking in love with you, Park Chanyeol?”  _

 

And there, you kissed me. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


So maybe I should say it too. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Maybe because I fucking love you, Byun Baekhyun.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


||FIN||


End file.
